


Foederis

by SquigglyAverageJoe



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: ...Maybe I’m Getting A Little Too Deep With My Fanfics, Alliances, Also Because I Said So, An Alliance With Hyrule, And Him And Zelda Are Just Friends, And Marin is Pansexual In My Book/Fanfic, And Then Realizes She’s Got A Crush On Marin, Bugs & Insects, Grief/Mourning, Homophobia, Homosexuality, Internalized Homophobia, Link is Bi, Necromancy, Political Alliances, Politics, Redemption, Sunsets, Swords & Sorcery, This Fanfic is About A Lot More Than Just How The Twilight Realm Forms, Xenophobia, Zelda Discovers She Is Gender Fluid, Zelda is Not Gay For Marin, because I said so, oh no, yep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:35:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 37,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquigglyAverageJoe/pseuds/SquigglyAverageJoe
Summary: About a year and a half after the events of Hyrule Warriors, a lot has changed in the Twilight Realm—like. A LOT. Most notably, her realm has begun to deplete it’s resources due to the rising population of the Twilight Realm, and in order to help her people, Midna (now the Twilight Queen instead of just a princess) must negotiate an alliance with the soon to be coronated Princess Zelda and her father—the former of which has been raised to be bigoted and doesn’t realize it and the latter of which holds a personal grudge against Midna and her people.Foederis: noun. A Twili word for “meeting.” Specifically, meetings that were bound to happen or greatly looked forward to for a long period of time. An encounter greatly longed for, usually between friends.
Relationships: Ghirahim/Zant (Legend of Zelda), Lana/Midna (Legend of Zelda), Marin/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

The entire room feels cold, though, perhaps, it’s due to Midna’s clothes more than the temperature of the room. After all, Hyrule’s princess sits across from her, dressed in a much more conservative pink dress that looks an awful lot like the one Midna remembers another, very similar princess to have worn, but still it’s so different that it just constantly reminds her of the past.

She looks similar to the Zelda Midna knew—her hair is blonde instead of brown, but still long and straight, her eyes a different shade of blue, but still blue and still the same large, monolid shape. Her face structure appeared the same, her skin just as pale though, Midna can remember the last time she saw Princess Zelda, she had a bit of a tan. She looks very different from what she remembered, and if it weren’t for the obvious fact that not that much time had passed, she would have assumed that this was yet another descendant with the same name—she looks so pale, her dress is more of a dress and far more elegant when before, it had resembled armor.

She supposes that, as it is, Zelda is the least of her worries. The king of Hyrule is who she should really be focusing on.

He looks older than he really is, he must be in his forties, really—but his salt and pepper short hair and the harsh lines on his face make him appear in his late sixties. He’s dressed in some regal looking robes with Hyrule’s crest on his chest. “And what sort of reasons do you really have for desiring this alliance, Princess Midna?” He’s been staring her down for the entire meeting.

If she was back in the Twilight Realm, she’d call him a bigoted coward. She’d say he has no right to his beliefs on her and her people when the people of the Light Realm were the ones who had been wronging them for the most part, other than the very obvious Era of Twilight, which Midna has unfortunately learned, had ended about nineteen years ago.

She isn’t in the Twilight Realm, though—she’s in the Light Realm, in Hyrule, and it had taken her forever to get the mirror fixed and arrange this meeting, offending the king would not do her or her people well.

“It’s Queen Midna,” she says, trying to keep her tone as amicable as possible. “And I believe I’ve mentioned it before, but...my realm is getting overpopulated. Immensely overpopulated. We’re running out of room—we can’t build any more buildings, there isn’t enough food or jobs. Some of my people are living out on the streets. We’ve done what we can to post pone this—giving easier access to education to get better jobs, educating the people on ways to prevent this population growth and just what will happen if there’s too many of us, it’s really obvious why we can’t have too many of us in the Twilight Realm, we only have so much room, so much resources—the truth is, we need this alliance with you.” She cleared her throat. “And, as an addition, I think it’s about time we get over this petty brawl between the light and the dark. We both exist, and we need each other to exist—there’s no reason to keep up the fight.”

He’s silent for a long moment—he looks over at his daughter, who immediately straightens, probably thinking she’s finally going to get a word into the conversation. Next to her, Impa stands, her expression so calm to the point it’s almost blank. Midna and her lock eyes for a minute and she nods, clearly acknowledging that eye contact was made.

“I,” The princess starts, sitting up even straighter. “Think that it would be beneficial to form this alliance.” She glances at her father—he still wears no expression. That doesn’t seem to put her much at ease. “I see it bettering businesses and our own knowledge of our history, as the war that lead to your race’s imprisonments in scarcely mentioned in any text book—however, we would need to apply the same laws to your people as we do ours.” The King of Hyrule appears to be happy this has been brought up.

“That was to be expected,” Midna says. “For the most part, I believe we have similar laws. I’ve done my research—“

The king interrupts her and Midna—against her better judgement—doesn’t keep going and stops to listen to whatever he has to say. “I believe the research you’ve done would be during the Era of Twilight, which has been over and done with for almost two decades. There are some glaring differences in both of our kingdom’s legal systems, but I think the one thing that will really be an issue is homosexuality.”

What? She doesn’t know what that means. She glances at Zant*, but he seems just as confused as she is. Midna clears her throat. “I’m afraid I don’t know exactly what you are referring to—that word you just said isn’t in mine or my advisor’s Hyrulean vocabulary.” She gestures to her advisor right next to her.

“Your laws allow people of the same sex to marry,” he says. “If you don’t call that homosexuality, what do you call that?”

“Marriage.”

“Well, here, we call it ‘gross indecency’ and it is punishable by death.”

Midna’s heart skips a beat. She taps the small thing wrapped around her ear and clears her throat. “What?” She meant to say more than that, but that’s all that comes out.

“Another issue in understanding?” Princess Zelda asks.

“I really hope so,” Midna says. “I really hope what I just heard is a misunderstanding, because it sounded like you restrict the rights of your people over something that personally grosses you out.” Her advisor shifts and looks at her, obviously sensing that she herself is disgusted.

“You say that, but I wasn’t the one who made that law,” he says.

Princess Zelda clears her throat. “It was the queen,” she says. “...The one reigning during some of the Era of Twilight and who you two have met.”

That makes it even worse. “She was the one who created such a law?”

“Yes.” The current princess doesn’t seem bothered by this—Midna feels sick to her stomach.

“I understand that surely, with the creation of such a law in your land,” the king says, and Midna is certain he is trying to provoke her. “You surely have citizens who have participated in this sort of indecency, and have likely even participated in a marriage of this type? The same law still applies—their marriage would be void here and anyone caught partaking in any sort of act would be put to death.”

A muscle in her jaw twitches. Now she knows what homosexuality is—she’s heard it before, she thinks, but it’s an old timey word. No in her realm really uses it. “So, if a Twili citizen is gay or something, you’ll kill them?” Midna asks.

Zelda cuts her father off. “Oh, no, no—that wasn’t what he meant!” Impa looks slightly alarmed—she glances at Zelda and then goes back to watching them. “They can, um, be that, but they can’t marry, be married and they have to keep quiet about it.”

Midna looks at her advisor again—she can’t see his expression, but she has a feeling that behind his mask, Zant’s about ready to flip the table like her. This is one of the few things they don’t clash heads about. “So, what you’re saying they can be as gay as they want, they just have to keep it hidden?”

“Yes. That’s what we meant.” Zelda doesn’t seem to understand what is so wrong about this. She looks at her father—for a minute, they’re just staring at each other before he agrees, yes, that’s what he meant. Zelda looks back at them, she obviously thinks this is okay. “Maybe that isn’t ideal for your people and what life is like in the Twilight Realm, but surely the adjustment’s better than exhausting any source of food or water or anything?”

Midna has a lot to say in response, but she settles on, “I’m not sure if my people will agree with you there—perhaps you don’t see it that way, but this a restriction on their rights.”

The king turns to her. “This meeting is running long, Zelda—perhaps you should retire for the night.”

“The sun has yet to even set and I’m nineteen.”

“Zelda.”

She sits there for a minute—beside her, Impa turns to face her. “Come on, Your Highness.”

Zelda sighs and gets to her feet, exiting the room they’re in with Impa holding open the door before following her out.

The king’s expression is cold. “Why do you really want to form this alliance?”He asks.

“I’ve said it multiple times—a rise in population, mostly, and because it’s a new era. The war is over, we aren’t really enemies. I’ve no ulterior motive here.”

“Your kind always has an ulterior motive.”

The room drops a few degrees. “I beg your pardon?” Her voice is ice cold—in any other circumstance, she’d leave it at “I beg your pardon” and watch whoever offended her run off with their tail between their legs, but she keeps going. “What did you say about my kind?”

For a minute he freezes, but then he sighs. “It’s not your fault you are creatures of darkness. I understand you want what’s best for your people—and what’s best is taking this alliance.”

Midna scowls. “Perhaps I’ll wait another six months, for the princess’ coronation. I’m sure, as a queen, she’ll be far more reasonable and less offensive than you.”

“Do your people have six months?”

Midna doesn’t answer.

“...Your people are dangerous. I will not allow you Twili to come to my kingdom and be treated equal to Hylian people—do you think I know nothing of the war?” His gaze focuses on her advisor. “Or the invasion?” His eyes flicker to Zant, his face masked by his helmet and his expression unreadable. Midna has the feeling he’s very uncomfortable right now. She gets it, because so is she.

“I understand—“ Her tone is clipped and cold, but she wants out of there. “—you are hesitant to trust us, we are as reluctant as you are. But the truth of the matter is it’s all over—we have no reason to quarrel and war with each other, simply because of the whole light vs. dark thing.” She stands—Zant does the same. “The war is over when you want it to be. I will not let you treat me or my people as if we are less than we really are, when we would be contributing much more to this alliance as you would. I will mull over your words, but unless you change your mind about something, I don’t think my answer will change from the one I’m leaning towards.”

She turns on her heel and accidentally steps on the hem of her skirt—she almost falls. Zant grabs onto her arm So she doesn’t fall flat on her face and humiliate herself in front of the King of Hyrule. but she yanks it from his grasp and continues walking forward, out of the room, Zant close behind.

“I have to admit,” Zant says from behind her. “You did well in curbing your obviously rising temper. I was concerned for a moment.”

“I have never wanted to slap someone more in my life than when he repeatedly called me a princess! I’m not a child anymore! I-I don’t even have the words to describe how angry he was making me after that, other than furious!”

She can tell he’s shaking his head—he’s laughing. “‘The war is over when you want it to be.’”

“I don’t think this alliance thing is gonna happen, Zant.”

“We could hold it to a vote,” he says. “But the final decision is up to you.”

“I mean...I don’t want to bring them here and put our people in danger, and...I know they would be in danger. What can we do, tell half of the married population they have to stay in the Twilight Realm? And if they forbid something like marriage, then what else in our culture would they have a problem with? Our deities we worship? Our clothing? The fact that our skin is multicolored?”

Another voice spoke up. “I hate to interrupt the two of you,” someone interrupted. Midna turned—to their right, just a few inches by the door they were just about to enter, Impa was leaned against the wall. “But there is something the princess wishes to speak with the two of you about, assuming you are willing to finish this conversation later.”

In the time that’s passed since the war, a lot of things appeared to have changed, but Impa looks basically the same. Her outfit is a bit different—skin tight, gleaming metal pauldrons, the neck thing Midna had no idea what to call has remained the same, mostly a dark blue color with hints of black and red detailing and of course, her huge weapon she always had on her. But other than the outfit, exactly the same—light brown skin, white hair and red marks all over her face. “What about?” Midna asks.

“About the meeting, I presume,” she answers.

“Now’s as good a time as any,” Midna decides. “Where is she?”

“Right this way.”

The halls are weirdly quiet, Midna notes as she follows Impa. She glances at Zant, who’s been terribly quiet. Ever since they arrived in Hyrule, though, Midna isn’t sure she blames him.

Impa leads them to a room and sure enough, Princess Zelda is there, waiting. When she sees them, she brightens and Impa goes to stand at her side. “First off, I want to apologize for whatever my father said. I don’t entirely know what he said when I left, but I’m certain it was terribly offensive.”

“A lot of what he said with you in the room was just as bad,” Midna states. “But I acknowledge your apology.”

She nods. “I am sorry—we...My...Recently, I’ve begun a much more hands on approach to my studies in preparation to rule after my twentieth birthday. We divided much of the work of ruling and affairs with other kingdoms, our allies and our enemies is supposed to fall to me, but...”

“He’s racist,” Midna says. “And pretty sexist.”

“Yes.” She sighs. “And I offer my deepest apologies on the matter, it was unacceptable.” She said it like she was gonna do something about it, but Midna could tell by the look in her eyes, this was one of those injustices she would stand for and do nothing to stop. She just hoped that not all of the people in this realm were like this—the information she just got on Princess Zelda’s mother though is still on her mind.

“I have to admit,” Midna says. “I’m...disturbed by the laws you make your people follow.”

“The one about homosexuality?” Zelda asks. “I understand the culture of your people is very different from ours, but I believe you have much more pressing matters in your realm.”

“This is half of our population,” Midna says. “Half of our population that will need to keep quiet or die. Simply because the royal family thinks it’s gross?”

“It’s not just the royal family,” she says. “Most of Hyrule’s population agrees with the law.”

Midna wants to ask how the hell she’s come to this conclusion, but considering she’s not from here, that might be kind of rude—to assume she somehow knows Zelda’s people better than she does. “Interesting,” she says again.

“I...have to admit, death seems rather harsh, especially since your culture treats it the same as a normal marriage.” Normal. Midna has to bite her tongue to bite back the harsh, snarky comment right behind her lips. “I’ll try to work out with my father a different law—one that won’t possibly kill half of your population. I really don’t think homosexuality is that bad, even if it’s wrong, it doesn’t deserve death.”

Midna glances at Zant. “Mhm,” she says. “I see. I appreciate having this conversation with you, but my advisor and I should really go and talk about this in private.”

“Well,” Midna decides, sitting herself down across from Zant. “That was absolute hell—I thought I liked Princess Zelda, but then she opened her mouth, and now I really hope she never opens it again.”

“Probably not a good thing to say when we’re looking to form an alliance with her and her kingdom,” Zant says—he’s right, but Midna doesn’t want to admit it.

“I know, but...that was awful. Like, seriously. I’ve never had such a tense meeting with anyone before.”

“Yes,” Zant admits. His mask retracts and he sighs. “It was terrible. But we still need to think of something to do.”

“Well, we already tried with the Gerudo.” Now their queen had been a good one! She had been intelligent, heard them out, and they could have worked out an alliance, but the simple truth was Midna’s people could not survive in the harsh sunlight, and the Gerudo did not have enough resources to go around, which was the same problem the Twili were having. It hadn’t been a complete waste of time, though—now they’re on good terms with the Gerudo at the very least, there is definitely a part of Gerudo history that intersects with their own that they would get to unravel together in the future, and multiple people had flirted with Zant and Midna got to watch how embarrassed he had got. That last part had just been fun.

“I’d suggest the Zora, but you don’t know how to swim.” It’s a joke—and a good point, because very little of the Twili know how to swim and none of them can breathe underwater, but a much better reason for not being able to have an alliance with the Zora would be that a few decades ago, Zant indirectly caused the murder of their queen, which Midna is willing to bet her son remembers. With that being the first interaction any Zora had made with a Twili, it’sunlikely it left a good impression—especially since Zant’s her advisor again.

In fact, Midna bets many people would not take kindly due to them because of that, something Zant is surely catching on about, if his silence means anything.

“We aren’t good with heat, so not the Gorons.”

“...I can’t think of any other races.”

“Well,” Midna says. “We’ve achieved a whole lot of nothing today.”

“There has to be something,” Zant says, but he can’t seem to come up with anything.

“Any chance you got a real god you can contact that can give the both of us powers so we can find an uninhabited land, cover it in twilight and let our people live there?”

“If I knew one, I wouldn’t trust them?”

“I’m joking.”

“I never know if it’s really a joke.”

“Maybe it’s not.”

“I really don’t want to get impaled again.”

“I really don’t want to impale you again.”

“This has been a lovely conversation.”

They’re supposed to stay at Hyrule Castle until they reach an agreement (or choose not to) and Midna’s gotta admit—it looks very different in ways she didn’t quite expect. Of course, that’s likely due to the fact that at the very end of her and the Hero of Twilight’s journey, Hyrule Castle got utterly _fucked up_. But even the parts that weren’t totally destroyed and then repaired look completely different—Midna’s decided it’s the lighting. Now that the kingdom isn’t in Twilight or covered in darkness, it seems and feels totally different. It also feels more alive—though Midna thinks that also just in general because of how rebuilt everything is after the second war that happened. Two years later and everything looks good.

The really weird part about this all is how differently time passes in the Twilight Realm. Yes, to everyone in Hyrule it’s been two years since the war across the ages, but to Midna and her people in the Twilight Realm—it’s been decades since twilight covered Hyrule.* Midna is too tired to do the math, think about how many years for her it was before the war happened in comparison to Hyrule, think about when she made the possibly stupid decision to bring back Zant and when he actually managed to prove himself as a loyal advisor after betraying their realm for a false god.

The room they’re in is one that links the bedrooms they’ve been given during their stay. It’s nice, but not at all what Midna’s used too—much too bright for her (and likely Zant’s) taste, with large windows with curtains Zant had already shut and pretty looking furniture. It’s a nice touch since it would be strange to talk with Zant in one of their bedrooms.

“What do you think happened to Lana?” Midna asks. She doesn’t know why. Zant likely doesn’t really care what happened to her, and he has no better idea than her, but she’s been thinking about it for quite some time.

“...She was the blue haired girl, right?”

“Yes.”

“...The one you were drooling over—“

“Yes, that was her!”

“How should I know?” He asks. “Did the two of you ever talk about what would happen when the war ended?”

“Did you and Ghirahim*?”

“Oh, all the time! I would be dead and he’d be wandering the outskirts of Hyrule, trying to find a way to bring his master, Demise, back unless something rendered him immobile or he died, and that was when the conversation ended.” There’s a hint of bitterness in his tone—and Midna doesn’t totally understand. Of course, sure, she had way more of a chance to find Lana after the war, even with the destroyed Mirror of Twilight, what with Lana being a powerful sorceress with the Triforce of Power, and Midna being alive—but from the little Zant’s told her, she knows that whatever their relationship was between Zant and Ghirahim, what they had both wanted from each other, they had gotten. It had been short lived, definitely, but at least they had known.

She hadn’t really chosen to make a move on Lana—she had obviously still carried a torch for the hero, and Midna understood, she didn’t blame her, and then there was the whole ‘war’ thing going on, and the fact that Midna would have to return to her time, she had people to govern! A queendom to protect!

“I really need to quit forming relationships with people of this realm,” Midna thinks aloud.

Zant seemingly frowns—it’s a bit difficult to tell. He could also be smiling. Or maybe his expression hasn’t changed at all? “The entire reasoning for why we’re here is to form a sort of relationship with Hyrule. An alliance.”

“Oh, right,” Midna says. It’s not that she’d forgotten, she had just been thinking more along the lines of ‘personal relationships.’ Every time she got attached to people of this realm, she ended up leaving. She had already learned what had become of her hero...

She sighs and stretches. Zant stands. “I think I’m going to retire for tonight, my queen. This day’s been taxing.”

“Tell me about it,” Midna says, leaning her head back. “Well, night, Zant.”

“Good night.” He frowns again. “Wait, why are we still wearing our _linguaen*?”_

Midna frowns. She doesn’t know. They could have taken them off a while ago. “No idea.” She reaches up and pulls her’s off—it’s a small device that fits around their ears so they can better understand other languages—specifically, Hylian. It’s not perfect, but it works better then just going on without it (she had lucked out with how little the Hero of Twilight had spoken, really) and she’s kind of proud the technology of her realm is so much more advanced then of Hyrule’s.

Zant’s already left to his chambers, leaving Midna totally alone. Maybe it would have been smart to bring some sort of protection with them, especially since she is literally a queen and she knows not everyone is going to be very welcoming to her and her people, but she isn’t worried about any of that—if anyone tried to harm her, she could take them. The threat of some sort of assassination attempt didn’t scare her, she could handle any assassins herself, and she really wanted all guards protecting her kingdom.

She sighs and walks over to the balcony. Fresh air sounds great right now, but Midna doesn’t open the window. The sun is setting, right now, and for a minute, her sigh is one of content, golden light resting on her face, the horizon purple and the sky orange-pink as it slowly darkens. She makes herself relax.

There’s a knock on the door.

For a minute, Midna doesn’t think she’ll answer it—but then her feet are already leading her towards it. The door opens quietly, it’s hinges well-oiled.

It’s Impa standing in the darkened hallway that now looks a bit familiar to Midna. Her expression is a deadpan, as per usual. She says things—they don’t make a lick of sense to Midna. “...What?”

Impa frowns and repeats what she’s said. “...I...I’m not....you.” Every word in between those ones is nonsense.

Midna blinks and then puts the _linguaen_ she’s still holding in her hand around her ear. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“I said, ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you,’” Impa says for the second time. She doesn’t look annoyed, to her credit.

“Oh, no, no disturbance.” She wasn’t really doing anything to be disturbed from. “Is there something else Princess Zelda wishes to discuss at this hour?”

“No, not this late.” For Midna, time is nothing. Zant’s only tired because...Well, Midna doesn’t know, but Midna has a few more hours left in her before she’s ready to actually get to sleep. “The reason I’m here is more of a...personal matter. If you’re busy though, I can leave.”

“No, I’m not,” she sighs. “Why don’t you come in, I have tea?” It’s actually kind of cold by now, but Midna tends to wait too long for her tea to cool before she drinks any anyway.

Impa nods and steps inside. Midna almost forgot how tall Impa was—Midna herself isn’t that short, but Impa still has two whole inches on her. “Thank you.”

The two of them sit down across from each other and Midna hands her a slightly warmer than her own cup of tea. “So, what is it?” Midna asks.

“I...I believe I’m just checking in with you,” Impa says. “I haven’t seen you with my own eyes since the war, if we aren’t counting a few hours ago.”

Right. The war. Impa had been a very good general then—and it shows on her. She has many scars on her arms and legs, some smaller than others, and the others ugly, raised and obvious, but Impa seems to wear them with pride. Midna feels herself grin—she can’t remember the last time she’s grinned like this, too stressed over her queendom’s rapidly rising population, the rise of homelessness, the general unease everyone has. But this feels more like she’s an imp again, in a world unfamiliar and familiar all at the same time, fighting alongside people she’s begun to grow close to. “I’m surprised you remembered me from that,” Midna says.

Impa’s own smile is a bit smaller, definitely not a grin, but it’s better than the deadpan she’s been wearing. “Of course I did. You were one of our best fighters. Very strong,” she says. “Could clear a keep easily.” Midna grins—she is very strong. She likes to hear it. “I believe I’ve grown a bit fond of you since then. If it wasn’t for your name, though—I don’t think I would have recognized you. This is your true form?”

Midna nods. “It is.” She loves this form—she doesn’t look that different, despite how much time has passed. She’s still tall, with wide hips and a slender waist, she wears her hair the same and dresses the same in attire she’s been getting weird looks for. She honestly wouldn’t be wearing shoes right now if they weren’t the aggressive norm they were in Hyrule, and now that she thinks about it—that’s basically the only thing that’s different about her, aside from a scar or two, or a wrinkle or two. “I’m lovely, I know.”

Impa nods. “It suits you—in a strange way.” She gets that a lot—her appearance is regal, as her personality is. But people tend to think her hair should be more wild, or her body less slender. To her, this is how she’s supposed to look, though. “Is your hair still a hand?”

“No,” Midna says. “Now my hair is hair. But I do have a third hand, most of my people do. It’s just magic, instead of hair.” She’d fix her hair, but it’s already perfect. “What about Hyrule? It seems to have rebuilt itself almost seamlessly.”

Impa looks down at her tea and takes a sip. “It basically has—there’s still some damage. But the castle is good as new, that one keep was fixed up...Trees do occasionally just burst into flame. We have precautions set in place, though.”

“Precautions?”

“Buckets of water. It’s fixed relatively easily.”

Midna thinks for a minute. “...Do you know what happened to Lana?”

Impa hesitates before answering. “I don’t know as much as I would like to. It’s been a while since I’ve even heard her name. I’m afraid after the war, she...disappeared.” There’s something in Impa’s eyes.

“Disappeared?” Midna asks.

She shrugs. “Sometimes, there’s rumors of a blue haired sorceress, spotted in a shop or library in Castle Town, or on the outskirts of the Gerudo Desert, but for the most part, she’s been under the radar.”

Midna doesn’t care about her tea. “What are the rumors?”

“Mostly that there’s just a sorceress in locations that change,” she says. “One that can heal most all wounds, blessed with a gift from the goddesses. Different people focus on different rumors about her. I’m certain it’s her, but...”

“But what?”

“...I believe she’s still grieving,” Impa admits. “Over Cia? She doesn’t make it obvious, probably since we’re still rebuilding over the war she caused. ...I’ve heard rumors that a sorceress—similar or the same as her—is trying to find a cure for death itself. I pity her—she mustn’t want to return to merely watching over the balance of the Triforce by herself.”

That is not what Midna’s wanted to hear. “That’s sad,” she says, and now she wants to change the subject. “Whatever happened to Link?”

“That I know more of.” Impa moves a single strand of hair that’s escaped her viscously tight hair tie. “He isn’t seen a whole lot, but he helps train the soldiers and investigates any trouble in the kingdom we fear may get out of hand.”

There is no subtle way to ask. “Did he and the Princess ever...?”

“No,” Impa says. “I believe they’re friends, though.”

This is all incredibly disappointing to hear. “If I may, Queen Midna, I have a question; is...” She hesitates and lowers her voice a bit. “Your advisor. Is he the same Zant that...”

Midna’s so glad she has an answer for this. “Yes—and I know that makes my kingdom seem even more untrustworthy. But he actually...He barely remembers a lot of what happened, over the Twilight Invasion. All of it is very...strange. Believe me, he would not be in any position of power if I didn’t trust him.”

Impa nods—but she gets the feeling her judgement is being questioned. “So, was he possessed or what?”

“Maybe,” Midna says. No one really knows. “He’s helped correct a lot of the harm in my realm. ...Also, I don’t think I liked having someone’s death on my conscience.” That’s what she chooses to leave it as—not the horrible nightmares that plagued her for weeks, or how she sometimes heard his voice for no damn reason, or how when she had went to the Great Fairy in her realm, she had looked down at her and seen totally through her, and in those moments between Midna’s words and the Great Fairy’s, she somehow had known more about Midna than she knew about herself, pity dripping from her lips, apologies she had no right to give falling from her fingertips—it was like she ripped every emotion Midna had ever felt out of her chest and mind and used it to flood the room, until Midna was drowning in sorrow she didn’t understand.

Impa nods—if she thinks Midna made a horrible decision, she doesn’t voice it. “How’s Zelda?” Midna asks.

Impa sighs. “I see more and more of her father in her everyday.” Her tone carries no pride, no joy. Just concern, and maybe some exasperation.

“So, you disagree with the law too?” Midna asks.

“I never said that. But just between you and me,” she says, stands and is likely just about to leave. “I don’t believe Zelda believes what she says. And I believe she will make a just, fair ruler when the day comes. I just pray she’s better than the rulers before her.”

Midna nods. She understands what Impa’s saying—because she can’t outright say she hopes Zelda is nothing like her father. “It was nice speaking with you, General.”

Impa smiles, it’s soft and gentle on a face hardened from war and battle. “Yes. It was nice, your highness. Have a good night.” She bows and turns towards the door. In a moment, she is gone. Midna hopes it’s to get some sleep—the bags beneath her eyes were huge.

She sighs—the room is empty now. She can’t stop thinking about Lana. Just this conversation with Impa has left her feeling exhausted. She sighs, and runs a hand through her hair, yanking her fingers through a knot unceremoniously. She should get to bed.

There really is no point in being awake right now.


	2. Chapter 2

The desert air is cold on her skin—her clothes likely don’t help, but she’ll be just fine. She sighs, throwing her head back—the desert wind, cold as ice, harsh, blows down her neck that’s been covered in sweat for hours. It is really cold, but she welcomes it. This desert can get so unbearably warm.

But there’s something here she’s looking for. She’s been wandering the outskirts of the desert for awhile now, almost idly. She isn’t as focused as she should be and she blames dehydration for that. When she had left for here, she had through the amount of water she was bringing was outrageous, but now what’s really outrageous is how quickly she went through it.

Other than the harsh weather here, what she really hates is how barren the desert is. It’s something she hadn’t noticed before, when she had been kind of busy, her mind elsewhere, but it’s been hours since she’s seen much of anything, just endless sands, spread out. Going on and on and on—seemingly endless.

She takes another step—and her foot, clad in her ankle high boots, steps on something small, smooth. She stops and leans down to pick it up. It’s black, flat, but one of the edges is jagged, and the other looks...uneven. She runs her thumb over the jagged edge—sure enough, it cuts through the skin and she briefly wonders why she did that as a drop of blood wells up and slides down. She can heal it easily once she wants to, but she’s occupied right now.

For the first time in the past two months, she thinks about this with a bizarre clarity. Her confusion erases all sort of fatigue from her limbs. She turns it over in her hand. She gets this strange, dark feeling she should know what it is—she thinks for another moment. She looks at the smoother side of it—this is only a piece of whatever it is. Whatever it is is broken. Is there another piece nearby?

She glances around—the clouds in the skies shift a bit, giving a bit more moonlight. The silver light gleams off of the dark metal in her hand—and a few pieces in the sand all around her. She glances around. This is by far the biggest piece of the object—whatever it is, she thinks it was flat. It was black. It was sharp, so maybe a weapon of sorts. She walks around the pieces and glances for anything that will give any clue to what it was. She steps on something else.

It’s the hilt of a sword—specifically, it looks like the hilt of the master sword, only black...There’s an upside down, complete set of the triforce on it. The small, diamond shaped, crimson gem is what tips her off though.

“Oh, no.” She looks all around the area. A drop of blood hits the sand, but she’s focused on this entirely now. “Oh, no. How...?” It’s not that she was fond of him—though she has always been fond of the Hero of Sky, (even though she is fond of all the heroes, yeah) and that legend in particular has been, in general, one of her favorites, partially due to him, but... He hadn’t been a good person. She kind of hates to admit it, but he wasn’t—he was violent, was prone to bloodlust, and had almost cut her open (and would have if he could have, and would have enjoyed it) but despite that, Lana can’t help but to pity him. She doesn’t know why—maybe because, by the look of it, he had met a brutal end, or maybe it’s because she just feels bad for someone who had been surrounded by violence and carnage and death and it wasn’t really his fault he was a weapon, or maybe it’s just because she is apparently the only person who had stumbled upon this, and is viewing the equivalent of a corpse, and of course Lana would feel bad if she stumbled upon a mutilated corpse.

“...Yikes.” She flips the piece of the blade in her hands around. “What happened to you, demon lord?” She isn’t sure what to do or what to feel. “Goddesses, what happened to you?” She knows she and the others didn’t kill him, at least. She had just sent them back to their times—had he been dead in his time? She doesn’t remember. And how did the pieces end up here?

She looks up—it hasn’t been night for long, but she can already feel the entire day’s events wearing on her. Just being in this desert exhausts her. She sits down, if just for a moment, not even caring about the sand—she already feels it in parts of her body she didn’t even know she had. She sighs and tilts her head back. She needs a break.

“How long have you been here?” She asks the empty night.

Someone’s rapping at his bedroom door. He says ‘someone’ but it can only really be Midna. He’s been up for hours at this point, dressed and ready to start the day, except also, not really.

“Zant?” Midna calls through the door.

He stands and walks to the door, opening it. “ _Bonum mame*_ , my queen.”

“Yeah, _mame_. Impa came by last night.”

“...Impa?” He’s actually confused, but Midna seems to think that means Zant forgot who Impa is—he knows who Impa is. He remembers a lot of her.

“General of the Hyrulean army.”

“Did she want something?”

“Just to talk. You know how surprised I was that the Princess Zelda we knew but you didn’t really and who we both know actually died a queen didn’t hook up with Link despite the fact that we—“

“—you—“ Zant interjects.

“—just assumed they would for no apparent reason?” Zant opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but Midna’s talking to fast for that to register. “These ones aren’t gonna hook up either.”

“...Are you sure? Didn’t they...I feel like something happened that cemented their relationship, or at least that it was gonna happen.”

“Well, if it is, it hasn’t happened yet. Or at least, that’s not what Impa said.” Zant actually heard every word Midna and Impa said last night. His Hyrulean was a bit better than Midna’s, he was pretty sure, and he had understood some of it before putting on his linguaen to see if he was needed, and then when he realized he wasn’t had kept it on, but he doesn’t think that’s something really worth sharing. He didn’t really hear much he wasn’t supposed to, and definitely not anything he hadn’t really heard before. Midna sighs. “Looks like even she’s kind of...” She makes another vague gesture. “I don’t know how to phrase it. Disappointed? With how Zelda agrees with her father so much on...” She can’t even seem to say it—Zant doesn’t blame her.

“It’s terrible,” he agrees, because it really is. What kind of a ruler cares so little for their people they would restrict a basic right simply because it disgusts them? Well, maybe Zant isn’t one to talk about rulers restricting basic rights, since he did brainwash every Twili in their realm into mindless, bloodthirsty monsters. What kind of a person would find themselves disgusted over something like marriage to the point they’d get rid of it entirely?

They walk to the room in between their chambers and sit down. “I was up all night,” Midna sighs. “I tried to sleep, but all I could think about was politics. I honestly don’t know what to do.”

Zant isn’t sure what to advise her to do—it’s kind of his job to give advice sometimes, but honestly, they need this alliance. But their people need their rights, and they naturally don’t want to ally with a kingdom that restricts someone’s rights. “We could hold it to a vote,” he suggests again. “See what the public wants, talk about it with the _concilio*_.” The _councilio_ is meant to help with tough decisions like this...

But the truth is, the council was relatively divided on what to do when it had first reached this point, and people were still divided on what had been the right call. Now, there doesn’t seem to be a right choice.

“...What do we do?” Midna asks.

“We should try and see if we can convince the princess, at least, to be a bit more reasonable. We have another meeting later today, we can talk about this then, and...From there on out, I think we should talk about that with the _councilio_. Maybe there’s an obvious choice we’re missing.”

Midna sighs, running a hand through her hair, which she’s wearing down. “I’m going out,” she says. “To Castle Town. I need some fresh air.”

“Do you wish for me to accompany you?”

“Not really, I want to be alone.” She stands. “You don’t mind, right?”

Definitely not. He prefers this. “I don’t. So long as you feel safe going out by yourself.”

She frowns. “...Should I not?”

“I don’t know.” He doesn’t really know just how many people are aware of their realm, and their existence. But Midna’s strong—she’ll be fine, even if people react negatively to her appearance or anything of the sort.

“Well, that’s reassuring.” Midna stretches. “I’m gonna go...” She gestures to her hair. “Fix this mess.”

Zant sighs as she leaves, sitting down in an armchair and opening up one of the books he brought with him. He’s always been fond of reading—now that half of the Twilight Realm doesn’t trust him and the other half doesn’t know what to think and he’s too anxious to go outside or too far away from Midna where people can easily think he’s doing something very illegal again, he reads far more often. He’s read this book specifically a trillion times, but it’s one of his favorites. And, more importantly, it’s very long. He’ll be able to kill a few hours.

...And then there’s a knock on the door.

All of Castle Town is bustling, moving around like crazy. There’s plenty of shops, a few inns. Anyone facing the general direction of Midna stops and looks at her. She makes it a point to stop everytime and smile at them, not ashamed to be out in public, wearing her rune covered cloak. That usually makes people stop with their stopping.

But it’s starting to grate on her nerves. Children point at her, holding the hand of an adult, confused. People whisper. One woman in a red dress looks at her, tilts her head and then gives a small wave. Most of the men are louder. One tries to flirt with her and then curses when she walks right past him.

When a hand taps her shoulder, she turns around and looks at them, almost wearing a scowl.

The owner of the hand is a woman, pale with blonde hair down her back, all sorts of strange looking hair clips keeping it out of her face. She looks to be in her late twenties, wearing a pink gown with a pretty round skirt and a picnic basket on her arms. She smells like lavender. Her eyes are a bright purple, and beneath each of them is three dots of color, and she’s holding a parasol. “It’s you!” She chirps.

“...It is.” She knows she’s seen her before! She can’t remember where, though...

She grins, eyes wide. “Do you remember me?” She asks.

Midna tries to think—and then it hits her. “Agitha?” Agitha giggles. “...The bug princess?”*

“Queen now!” She says. “I’m an adult now, Miss Kitty.”

She is. “Wow,” she says. She wasn’t incredibly fond of Agitha, really, too focused on everything else that was happening while the girl couldn’t focus on anything, but something about seeing her right now, in front of her, changed and yet so familiar, all grown up, really makes her smile. “You really are.”

She giggles. “I heard a rumor some Twili folk were coming to the castle, but I couldn’t even fathom why, but once I saw your cloak, I knew it was you!”

She’s kind of surprised. Agitha only ever saw her in her other, cursed form. “It’s nice to see you, Agitha.”

“Oh, Miss Kitty, you should come with me home! I can make you some tea, it’s been so very long since I’ve seen you.”

...Why not? It’s not like she really has much else to do—plus, she’s beginning to realize that she has a soft spot for Agitha she didn’t even know she had.

Agitha leads the way, snaking through crowds, Midna right behind her. Despite the fact she’s grown, there’s still a strange, childish regality in her every action and word. It’s slightly annoying, Midna thinks, but it’s almost impressive how she’s clung to her identity as an insect monarch for so long.

“Just right past this corner,” Agitha says, but Midna stops. She saw something—something a bright blue, bobbing through a crowd, but now she isn’t sure. “Miss Kitty?” She suddenly remembers Agitha and starts after her again.

“You know you can just call me Midna, right?” She asks.

Agitha giggles. “Right.” She opens the door to her home for Midna, letting her walk ahead. “It’s been so long, hasn’t anything changed?”

“Lots,” she says. “Back in the Twilight Realm. You aren’t the only queen in the area.”

Agitha giggles again and closes the door behind them. “I’ll make tea!”

Within minutes, Midna’s sitting across from Agitha in an ornately decorated living room. The entire room smells like flowers, because there is flowers in the corner of the room. A handful of butterflies flutter around. “Did I ever tell you about Zant?” She asks.

Agitha frowns. “The rat bastard?”* She questions.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Midna says. “Well, he’s my advisor again. He’s much less of a rat bastard.”

“...A rat bastard is an insult, right?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, just checking! So, were the rumors true? About you coming to the castle?”

“They were,” Midna confirms. “We’re looking to negotiate an alliance.” She feels her shoulders slump. “It didn’t go so well.”

“Oh, no,” Agitha says. “What happened?”

Midna sips at her tea—it’s dark and bitter. Agitha pours herself another cup, pouring in some milk and throwing in a cube of sugar. “Is it true that people of the same gender can’t marry here?”

Agitha nods. “Yes.” Despite her words, she doesn’t look or sound disgusted in any way. “...Is that not how it works in your realm?”

“He called it homosexuality—which is a really old sounding word to me. And he said it was punishable by death! Agitha, half of our population is interested in people of the same gender. What about other genders?”

Agitha raises an eyebrow. “...Other genders?”

“Yeah?”

“...I thought there was just two?”

Midna sighs, throwing her head back. “I knew Hyrule’s culture would be different from ours, but...”

“Can you tell me some about your culture?” Agitha asks. “...It sounds a lot like this is just differences in culture. I don’t want to make you angry because I don’t understand.”

“We believe marriage is marriage,” Midna sighs. “It’s just...how it works! And we don’t believe in the death penalty.”

Agitha nods. “Why not?”

“Because the amount of people who end up getting put to death for crimes they didn’t commit is just as much as the people who really did die for the crimes they committed. It’s not worth all those people dying, you know? Not when they can just be locked up. And we worship _Akoni_ , a god who believes in forgiveness and redemption. His teachings talk about how all people are born with a mix of good and evil and no matter the ratio of good and evil inside one, his sister _Cicela_ welcomes all in the afterlife with open arms, regardless.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It is,” Midna says. “We have a lot more gods than you Hylians worship. And for the most part, we worship them more and religiously because they were there for us when your goddesses weren’t. Gods who don’t believe people can be evil by nature are important when you are banished to a realm simply because people believed an entire people could be evil by nature.”

“Sounds cool,” Agitha says.

“It is! I love our culture!”

“It sounds lovely,” Agitha decides. “I know Hylians can be stupid, but Princess Zelda should be pretty reasonable.”

“She suggested that our people just don’t be open about their sexuality.”

“...Well, that’s a stupid suggestion.” She flushes. “I don’t know what to tell you, Midna. It’s not entirely her fault—I blame her mother, the late Queen.”

“...What exactly happened during her rule?” Midna asks. She suddenly needs to know.

Agitha slides her finger around the rip of her cup. “...I don’t think you want to hear it.”

“...What did she do?”

There’s a long pause. “She was the one who made the law you hate so much. Before that, though—she had a distant cousin or something or other, and she fell in love with a peasant girl. But she didn’t like that, at all. So, she tried to separate them and did everything she could to. When they planned to elope, she did everything she could, which resulted in her trying to get her cousin’s fiancée back to her village in a distant province somewhere, but apparently the two of them had a plan for that. And they both committed suicide.”

Midna can’t think of what to say. “What?”

“And the royal family didn’t want to bring it up because the queen blamed herself for it. And she just decided that...” She clears her throat. “She decided that no one in Hyrule would really accept homosexuality, her included. This was upon the rise of their deaths being celebrated, and it only made her feel more...guilty. So, her line of thinking was, if it was punishable by death, no one would practice it...And in her mind, I think she considered that homosexuality would lead to death anyway.”

“That’s not true, though,” Midna argues.

“Maybe in your realm. Here, though—every love story between two people of the same gender ends in tragedy, fiction or not.”

“What?” But Midna can’t argue against that. She had fallen in love with Zelda before—and had had to leave. Because she knew the two of their kingdoms had to be apart—she had seen their realm, had examined all of it. And she had wondered if her kingdom was any better—and had decided they had to be apart for now, too scared about what lay in the future for them all. ...A part of her had known, she thinks, that Zelda’s people then had been a bit too bigoted, her own a bit too jaded towards the Light Realmers. And while now, she can think of Hyrule fondly, it was still kind of difficult to not be slightly bitter—at how worse her people were off when so many rulers genuinely had their best interests at heart.

And then there was her and Lana—Midna had longed to be able to tell her. It was a subtle longing—but all of a sudden, she had craved to tuck a strand of hair behind Lana’s ear, to run her fingers through her blue tresses. At first, she ha assumed she was just admiring her beauty, because she was gorgeous—with her pointy chin, round face, large, violet eyes. That had not been it.

And she hadn’t done anything over it, had never told her and they hadn’t ever addressed it, though Midna was pretty sure Lana had...felt something. She didn’t think it was totally unrequited. But Midna had needed to go back to her own kingdom, and Lana had to go back to watching over the balance of the triforce.

“Well—“ She thought back to Zant and his relationship with Ghirahim. How he struggled to talk about it, but every time he did, there had been a certain fondness in his tone—warm, calm. ...And how they had been separated, even though Zant had made it obvious he didn’t like that. And no one knew where Lana was, no one even mentioned Ghirahim.

Agitha smiles, sadly, pats her hand. “Maybe we’re just not as evolved as you guys.”

Zant has no idea who it could be. It’s unlikely it’s Impa again, if it was Midna, she’d likely just come in. He gets up and walks over to the door. It swings open easily—and he almost slams it shut in surprise.

It’s Lana. Her skin holds a small tan, her face is a little flushed. She’s ditched her cloak, now just dressed in her blue tube stop that shows her stomach and white, skin tight pants with gold and blue detailing. “I heard a rumor,” she pants. He briefly wonders if she ran all the way here. “That you were... _Goddesses_ , I can’t breathe.”

She has a small bag tied at her waist and her book is secured by a leather strap on her body. She looks only slightly different—her hair is a bit messy, though. And she’s sweating a lot. And still panting. She briefly glances over her shoulder like she’s worried someone might see her.

“You heard a rumor,” Zant reminds her.

She swallows. “I heard a rumor the queen of the Twilight Realm was here to negotiate an alliance with...” She sighs. “And I didn’t know anyone else who...” She trails off. “Okay, I should start over, I don’t even know what I’m talking about right now.”

“Hello, Lana.”

“Zant, right? You look the same.”

“You...don’t.” He steps to the side. “Do you want to come in?”

“Yeah, sure.” She steps in. “Um...You’re honestly probably going to want to sit down for this, um...” She frowns, glances around. “...Midna’s not here, is she?”

“No,” Zant says. “But she’ll probably be back soon.”

“Oh.” Lana changes the subject. “Anyway, I was...I was wandering around the desert for reasons we will not discuss right now and I found this.” She grabs the bag off of her waist and hands it to him. “...I’m...so sorry.”

Zant frowns and looks at it. “...It’s a bag.”

“...I found what was inside of the bag.”

He pauses—there’s something in Lana’s eyes and her tone. He swallows and pulls the drawstrings, opening it. The contents are small...black. Sharp. “...I don’t understand, Lana.”

“Do...” She swallows. “Do you know Ghirahim’s true nature?”

Then it hits him. And he really wants to sit down. He sits down, but it doesn’t stop the world from spinning. “...This is a joke,” he says. “Lana, this is a terrible joke.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lana says. Zant can’t even look at her—this isn’t funny. This is terrible. “It just...It didn’t feel right, you know. To just leave him there, and I didn’t think he had any next of kin or anything, or at least, none that I’d be able to find, so I thought...” She sighs, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her ponytail is falling apart. “I found one piece first, and I didn’t know what it was. And I cut myself on it and then I noticed a ton and...”

Zant sifts through the small pieces—they neck his hand from beneath his sleeves, they hurt. He finds a red gem...And then he knows none of this is a joke. He can feel the handle pressed up against the side of the bag.

“When I gathered my thoughts enough to realize I should put all of it in a bag, the gem fell off. I don’t know how long he was...like that.”

“...They...” He looks inside of the bag. “...He...Oh, _Cicela, quid venia_?” He feels like he can’t breathe. “He...He couldn’t have been there for very long...It doesn’t look like...” He swallows. The pieces of the blade don’t look rusted or anything. They’re in good condition, still sharp. 

“I’m so sorry,” Lana says again. “I...I don’t know entirely, but I assumed he meant something to you. And I didn’t know if anyone else would feel that way about him.” She pulls at a thread on her pants. “...It felt right. At least, more right than just leaving him where he was.”

Zant is not about to lose it here. Not right now. He’s...It’s been years. It’s been years since he’s seen Ghirahim, and since Ghirahim had gone back to his own time, thousands of years before his...Ghirahim had likely forgotten about him, even if he had been killed recently. Somehow, that makes it hurt worse. “Um...” He tries to gather his thoughts. He clears his throat. “Thank you, Lana, for...bringing this to me.”

“...Are you okay?”

“I-I’ll be fine, it’s just...this is jarring.” ‘Jarring’ doesn’t begin to describe it. “I...” He clears his throat again—he isn’t sure if he’s breathing. Maybe he’s not—ever since he’s been you know...alive, for the second time, he’s had a few health issues. Nothing too much, just sometimes his _alterum corde_ doesn’t want to work perfectly. “Sorry, I don’t think my _alterum corde*_ is working properly.”

“What’s that?”

“Think like a second heart.”

“...Are you okay?”

He forces himself to stand. “I’ll be fine, I...I just need to rest.” Actually, being alone right now would likely be a bad decision, because if his _alterum corde_ does stop, he won’t be able to do anything to get it to start working and there’s like a fifty-fifty chance he’ll die, but he really needs to be alone right now, and he doubts there’s anything Lana can really do if it does stop right now.

“Oh. Okay. I’m...sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s not like...” He swallows again—his mouth feels so dry.

Lana stands and looks like she’s about to leave—there’s this sort of awkwardness in the air. There isn’t any hostility, which is a little strange, but considering they used to be on opposing forces on the battlefield, some awkwardness was to be expected. She stops. “...I hate to ask this of you, especially since I just stopped by to tell you someone you knew has died, but...can you tell Midna I stopped by and...just tell her I said hi?”

“I can do that.” He still feels like he can’t breathe, and fuck, he’s gonna be sick. “...Is there anything else you want me to tell her?”

Lana opens her mouth again—and then slams it shut and then opens it again. She looks kind of like a fish, if one yanked it out of the body of water you found it in. “...No,” she decides. “That’s...All I guess. Sorry, I should get going. Bye, Zant, sorry again.” She leaves quickly, her head down, her ponytail bobbing and the door shuts behind her.

Zant looks into the contents of the bag again. Ghirahim doesn’t look quite the same as he remembers.

An hour or two’s passed before Midna manages to excuse herself from Agitha’s home. Agitha cheerfully reminds her that she lives here and Midna’s more than welcome to visit her if she ever feels the need to and that she’s enjoyed her company. Midna has to admit, she’s enjoyed Agitha’s.

She walks back to the castle, gets in easily and goes back to the room between her’s and Zant’s.

Zant’s slouched in his chair. “You’re not gonna believe the day I’ve had.”

“ _O, ita*_?” Zant responds, his tone dry.

She frowns. There’s something off about Zant. “What happened?”

“...Um...” He looks distant. “Lana says hi.”

She sits down across from him. “Lana?”

Zant nods. “She...found me, somehow, and um...” He’s holding a small bag. “...Found this.”

“What is it?” She asks.

“Ghirahim,” he says, quietly. “...Or what’s left of him.”

She can feel her eyes widen. “Oh no.”

He nods. “...I don’t know how long for, Lana just stumbled across him. And he died, apparently.” He opens it and shows her the contents of the bag. “He was obliterated, actually.”

“...I’m so sorry,” Midna says. “That’s horrible, Zant.”

He nods and tightens the drawstrings on it. “I don’t even know what to do with this bag. It feels weird holding onto it, but he doesn’t have any _propinquum sanguinis quaestio ventilata*.”_

“Were the two of you close?” She asks.

“I don’t know,” Zant sighs. “...He made it very clear that in his time, he had nothing but a longing for his master and nothing else. ...He didn’t seem to want to go back.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, Lana kept saying that.” He sighs, beneath his mask. “Maybe I can find some sort of burial for him. He deserves that much.”

Midna nods. “ _Pergo_ , my queen—you were saying, about your day.”

“I ran into Agitha,” Midna says. “...She’s grown.”

“Agitha?” Zant straightens. “The bug princess?”

Midna smiles tiredly—at least Zant isn’t so slouched right now. “I’m not the only queen.”

Zant laughs. “Good for her. Is she well?”

“Very well, by the sounds of it.” Midna sighs and runs a hand through her hair—she decides none of what she is saying is really all that interesting and Zant’s had more of a day. “...You know, if you really need it you can rest for awhile. You look exhausted.”

Zant mutters something beneath his breath and stands. “I’d like that, Midna.”

“Alright, go and rest up before we have to talk with Princess Zelda and the King again. I know we’re both dreading it.” 

Zant shambles towards his room, the bag in hand. Midna sighs and sits down—she doesn’t look forward to returning to the Twilight Realm. Of course, right now, she is a bit homesick, and she loves her realm dearly—but she knows she will have no good news when she returns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonum mame: A Twili greeting, translates to “good morning.”
> 
> Councilio: While at it’s core a monarchy, the Twilight Realm possesses a council of representatives. In the beginning of the Twilight Realm’s history, it was very common for unjust rulers to be run out of the country and they went and lived in a cave somewhere far, far away never to show their faces—to avoid that, their government eventually established regions of the area, where representatives were chosen and the region they were from would put t to a vote on their opinion of something and then representatives of those regions would vote on something so the ruler would know what the majority wanted, serving as a way for the reigning monarch to know what the majority would want.
> 
> Agitha: While the Insect Kingdom has yet to be proven to exist, a girl in Castle Town has been calling herself it’s monarch for years now. The Hyrulean Family has come to the conclusion that if the Insect Kingdom does exist, it likely isn’t a threat.
> 
> *Queen Midna of the Twilight Realm, for the record, did indeed call Zant a “rat bastard” three times, that we know of. This has likely added to the confusion as to why she resurrected him.
> 
> Alterum corde: Used to replace a Twili’s equivalent of a heart—it’s basically a Hylian heart, just by a different name and pumps a different colored blood. Common in the Twilight Realm, especially as Ow grows older or if they are born with health issues, defects, etc.
> 
> O, ita?: A shortened version of the Twili’s equivalent of “You wanna bet?”
> 
> Propinquum sanguinis quaestio ventilata: Directly translates to “next of kin” in Twili, though no one knows why it’s so long.
> 
> Pergo: Twili for “go on” or “continue,” used in context of a conversation when someone is interrupted.


	3. Chapter 3

_“Ego potest non expectare ut custodibus haec explicio_ ,” Midna mutters. “This is gonna be a shit show.”

Zant would snort if he only had the energy. All he can manage is is a weak smile, but from beneath his mask, Midna can’t see it. He almost wants his mask to retract so he can fix his balaclava. The fabric feels too tight on his skin, like it’s strangling him.

Midna doesn’t comment on his silence. She also doesn’t comment on the fact that the bag is now hanging from his waist. He really appreciates that.

Princess Zelda is dressed in a purple gown more like one Zant can remember her mother wearing, before she ever even likely had a thought of becoming this princess’ mother, but it’s still different. More modern, he guesses. Her hair is braided tightly, Impa at her side as always, her father next to her. “We were beginning to wonder if you were going to show,” the king says as they take their seats.

“And we thank you for waiting so patiently,” Midna says.

“And why exactly were we waiting for so long?”

Midna glances at Zant. He answers, with no clarification. “Someone died.”

Impa’s eyes widen just a bit. “Who?”

“No one here,” he says. “Just...a friend of mine. I don’t even know how long he’s been dead, but I got news of it today.”

“Oh,” Zelda says. “...Sorry.”

The king clears his throat. “That is a good reason. My...My condolences on your loss.”

“Thank you.”

Midna smiles gently at him; it looks strained. Zant wonders if the apologetic tone in the king’s voice was genuine or not. “We apologize for being so late, but it won’t happen again. We just wished to negotiate with you.”

“Yes,” he says. “I assume about what we last discussed?”

“Yes,” Midna says. “You do realize you are asking me to decide between revoking a right from my people or risking countless deaths from overpopulation, right?”

“Which is why, I’m sure, you’ll make the right choice,” the king says.

Midna glances at Zant. “Maybe—but we’re not ready to make a choice at this moment. We ask that we come back at a later date, after at least discussing this and thinking about it for awhile.”

“Of course,” the king says. “It’s a large decision, this alliance. We understand.” Zelda nods in agreement. “About how long do you think it’ll take before you have a definitive answer?”

Midna glances at him again. “About a week, at least.”

Zelda smiles, gently. “A week will work.”

The meeting with the council achieves nothing. Midna holds it to a vote—everyone in every region will vote and the representative will vote according to them. And the council’s split. Half are in favor of trying to find an alternative. The other half say this is their only chance and they’ll have to figure something out.

Midna doesn’t hesitate to express her disappointment. “Well, this didn’t help in my decision at all.”

“This is a difficult call,” one of the members of the _councilio_ says.

“Tell me about it,” Midna responds.

“Did you tell them about how it’s a part of our culture?” Another asks.

“Believe me, I tried. They won’t budge.”

Zant walks with her throughout the castle. “Zant,” Midna begins. “If you were the one making a decision like this, what would you do?”

“ _Regin meis*_ , whatever your choice is, I will stand behind it.”

“Right. But what do you think is the right choice?”

He frowns, deep in thought. “I believe there should be another way. I think it would be wrong, to tell our people to confine to whatever Hyrule wants them to be simply because it disgusts them, I think it’s wrong to ally with a kingdom like that...But I think it’d be wrong to just have us suffer, too stubborn to leave when we have a chance.” He sighs. “Every part of me insists we have to cling to our own culture, but I think I value people’s lives over it.”

Midna nods—but she still isn’t sure.

“I’d recommend you pray to _Eloi_ *.” Zant says. “And sleep on it. Maybe he’ll grace you with an answer in the morning.”

Midna sighs—the idea that all she can do is pray right now makes her feel kind of sick. Her greatest hope is doing nothing but wishing, wishing for a right answer. “Have you decided what to do with Ghirahim?” She asks.

There’s a beat of silence. “No,” he says at last. “I’m still trying to think of that. Usually, here, burials mean family and friends and cremation—he’s broken metal. He can’t be cremated. I don’t know any of his friends or family. I have nothing to offer him.”

“You could always throw his pieces into an urn,” Midna says. “Like what my family’s done with relatives.”

“That feels wrong,” Zant says. “I don’t know—I don’t know what he’d want. I don’t think he ever really considered it—mostly because he would be dead and wouldn’t have cared, but I feel like he should have wanted something.”

“...Well,” she begins. “He was a sword. Do you think he could be reforged or something?”

Zant sighs, heavy and tired. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Midna bids him goodnight and goes to her own chambers. She sits on the floor by her bed and tries to think. She lays back, her head tilted so her eyes can be trained on the ceiling of the Palace of Twilight. She thinks for half of the night and sleeps for none of it.

Zant collapses on his bed exhausted. All he can really feel is exhaustion now—living has never quite been so stressful since he’s been brought back to life, for what is it? The third time?

This is to be expected—he did turn all of his race into mindless monsters, devoid of any free will. (He doesn’t remember how he did that, though.) He did overthrow their beloved princess. There is rumors that he had poisoned the king and was the initial cause of his death, but he _knows_ he didn’t do that.

He sighs, sinking into his bed and closing his eyes—but then he sits up and grabs the bag at his waist. He pulls on the drawstrings, opening it and peering in again. Nothing’s changed—though Lana claims to have found this in the desert, there isn’t a speck of sand on any of the pieces.

Without a word, he drops it on the table by the bed and collapses once more. His eyes shut and his breathing starts to slow—he hasn’t even taken off any of his clothes, he’s still wearing his helmet, but he’s too tired to care. This might just mean he’ll be able to get ready in the morning more easily.

He hears movement, somewhere in the room, but he assumes it’s in another room and ignores it. Then he hears someone tap his mask.

...It’s not what he’d expect—the sound is metallic. His eyes flicker open—and gaze into dark ones.

Above him is a man, pale, with white hair in an a-line style no one else can wear so well, and a large diamond earring hanging from his only exposed ear. His lips part to show his teeth in a grin—he’s wearing the same white body suit with diamond cut outs that Zant remembers him wearing, the same red mantle over it. “Honestly,” the familiar demon lord drawls. “You’re being positively uncivil, Zant—didn’t you miss me at all?”

He can’t think of anything to say. He fell asleep with his _linguaen_ on, so he can understand Ghirahim very well, but what he doesn’t understand is why he’s right there.

...Actually, Ghirahim does look different. There’s a small tear in his cloak, it’s chain has a broken link, one of his eyes is darker than the other and black lines go all around his body, like cracks, snaking around every part of him.

They’re distracting. “Ghirahim...?”

“Oh, so you do remember me?” His fingers trace over the lower part of his helmet, over his mouth. “How nice.”

“I...” He can’t think of anything to say. “You were...”

Ghirahim raises an eyebrow—or, he would, but he doesn’t seem to have any. “I was?” He questions.

He tries to think—all he manages to say is, “Am I dreaming?”

Ghirahim’s white painted lips curl up into a smile. “Do you dream of me often?” Zant chokes on his response. “I can’t say I blame you—my beauty is dreamlike, in your defense.” He frowns and grabs at Zant’s sleeves. “...Were your clothes always so baggy?”

“Yes,” he says. His mask retracts and whatever emotion rests in his eyes goes warm. “I don’t look much different. ...Neither do you.”

“No,” he says. “I don’t.” His fingers are cool, smooth. Before Zant can stop him, he tugs his balaclava down and runs his fingers through his short, red hair. “So, is this some sort of afterlife or was I just fortunate enough to survive?”

“I don’t know,” Zant admits. “I’m still pretty sure I’m dreaming.”

“No, darling—I’m very real.”

“You should also be very dead,” Zant says.

“Oh, is that so?” Ghirahim asks. “And what about you?”

“I’m alive.”

“But if I remember correctly, you told me that if you were to go back to your own time, you would go back to being dead—and you look pretty alive to me, so my theory is we’re both dead.”

“...Are you an _exspiravit*_?” Zant asks. Ghirahim snorts. “Lana found you near the borders of the Gerudo Desert. ...Or your remains, at least.”

Ghirahim frowns. “...What?” He seems very displeased by this—apparently, he thought they were both dead. “What are you on about?”

He gestures to the bag on the end table. “I’m sorry, Ghirahim.”

Ghirahim gets up and looks at it—he picks the red gem up with his own hand, pinched between his fingers. “...And how did she get this to you?” He asks.

“...Midna resurrected me.” Ghirahim’s expression is unreadable. “She brought me back and...I’ve been working as her advisor for awhile now.” Something flickers in his eyes. “We were negotiating an alliance with Hyrule. She managed to find me.”

“Are you serious?” Ghirahim asks.

“I really wish I wasn’t,” Zant sighs. “I’ve been stressing over just what to do over it.”

“Have you now?”

“Yes.” Ghirahim drops the bag back on the table. “I don’t know about you, but in my culture, loved ones are usually cremated and then have their ashes strewn somewhere of value if not just kept in an urn. Bodies are sent to families, family decide what to do.”

“Well, I don’t have any relatives,” Ghirahim says simply.

“...Then what do you want me to do?” Zant asks. Ghirahim’s shoulders rise in a shrug.

“I don’t know—I didn’t even know I was dead. Or at least that you’re alive.”

“That’s not helpful,” he sighs. “Can’t you think of anything?”

“Not really—there’s very little people in my life I openly care about, and they’re all my master Demise.”

“He’s multiple people?”

“Sure.”

“How did you not know?” Zant asks.

Ghirahim looks at him, a strange smile playing on his thin, white lips. “Oh, Zant, it’s not like I was truly alive before this—for me, this as just much eternal death as it is immortality. Especially since this seems to have very little effect on this form, at least.” He looks over himself, tracing one black line up his arm, over his shoulder—it looks like every crack is coming from a wound right on his chest, right where his red gem would be if he was in his sword form. “I suppose I shouldn’t revert back to my other form, then.”

“‘Back?’ Ghirahim,” Zant begins. “...How long were you in that form?”

Ghirahim glances over at the remains of the sword—of his sword, of him. Zant feels dizzy just thinking about it. “Does it matter?” There’s an edge of irritation in his voice. Ha, _edge_.

“...I...suppose not.” He realizes he’s been lying on his back for the entire conversation and sits up. “...I’m happy to see you, Ghirahim.”

He flicks some hair out of his face. “I don’t blame you.”

He smiles and reaches out—Ghirahim allows him to cup his face. “...Please assure me you are not a ghost or a dream, or anything of the sort?”

Ghirahim rolls his eyes. “I’m very real. I can prove it to you.” Before Zant can continue to question him, he leans forwards and presses his mouth against Zant’s. To Ghirahim’s credit, it’s chaste and sweet and doesn’t last too long.

Which doesn’t feel like Ghirahim at all.

Zant sighs—their relationship, back in the Gerudo Desert had been...strange. Maybe it was just the fact that Zant had never really been in a relationship before, but Ghirahim had made it strange. During the day, Ghirahim had rolled his eyes whenever he spoke and the only sign that he didn’t loathe his existence was sometimes a small smile or he’d blow a kiss in his direction for seemingly no reason—and then at night, he had found himself always seeking out Ghirahim’s company, and they had sat in the cold desert while the moon rose above their heads and...talked, sometimes. About everything, it seemed.

It hadn’t been difficult to form an opinion on Ghirahim—except for the fact that his opinion had continually changed, so maybe it had been difficult. At first, he had thought Ghirahim to just be a bit too much—too violent, with an insatiable lust for blood, too arrogant, just an all around very foppish, very vain man who just happened to know how to press all of Zant’s buttons and get the reactions out of him he seemed to want—but it wasn’t like Zant could honestly judge him—he had executed a Zora queen, possibly in front of her son, in front of her people, had sought to destroy the realm of light for all the suffering his people had gone through, even though his people didn’t want that, and the current residents of the Light Realm had no way to know, and Zant did overthrow the reigning monarch of his realm and curse her into the weak form of an imp so he could claim the throne, which he just thought he deserved. Yes, back then, they had been too similar for Zant to really have a negative opinion on Ghirahim—both self-serving, both too arrogant for their own good, both slightly ax-crazy...

But there was something charming in the sword spirit he had had to admit—he was loyal to his master over all else and even after so long, even though there wasn’t so much as a chance, he still yearned to find a way to bring him back. He had decent strategies and was strong, and if there was one thing Zant had learned from the Twilight Realm and his people, it was that strength was incredibly important. Strength was so valued in his tribe, it did make sense that he would come to value one of the strongest people that he knew.

Ghirahim’s hand twitches by his side—he does that sometimes. “Are you so deep in thought you’ve forgotten I’m here?” He asks.

“No,” Zant says. “Just...tired.”

Ghirahim sighs. “I’ll never understand mortals and their constantly depleting energy. You’d think a few millennia into the future, and they would have found a way to solve that by now.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Ghirahim rolls his eyes. “I don’t think you need much more beauty sleep, Zant.”

“No, believe me, I do—I have things to do in the morning.”

“Like?”

“I’ve been Midna’s advisor for a long time, Ghirahim.”

“Midna?”

“Yes.”

“...The tiny bitch?”

Zant almost forgot all of the insulting things he had said about Midna then. “She’s not cursed anymore. And she’s a queen now.

“Since when?”

He tried to think. “About twelve or so _cinnium*_ ,” he says.

Ghirahim props up his arm by the elbow on his knee and rests his chin on his palm, fingers curling around his jaw. “I’d say that’s a long time, but I don’t know what a ‘ _cinnium_ ’ is.”

Zant frowns—he doesn’t know what the Hyrulean equivalent is. “It’s a Twili measurement of time. Time passes differently here.”

“‘Here,’” Ghirahim repeats glancing around. “I was beginning to wonder why it was so dark.” He sighs. “Very well, Zant—go ahead and get more of your beauty rest. I suppose I’ll be here when you wake up.” He gestures to the bag of the sword’s—his—remains. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere, anyway.”

“You’re drinking this early in the morning?” Zant asks her.

Midna rolls his eyes. “You’re just jealous because you can’t _bibe_.”

“Not true,” Zant says, sliding into the seat next to her at the table. “I can—it’s just that I definitely shouldn’t.* I don’t want alcohol in my bloodstream anyway—something might stop working, with my luck.” Midna sighs. “Have you still not made a decision?”

“No,” Midna answers. “I’ve made my decision—I’m just lamenting over it.” She finishes off her drink. “Also, it’s not that strong, and it’s the first alcoholic drink I’ve had in a _cinnium_ , so.” She looks up at him. Something’s off. “You’re acting...different.” She lets go of the drink. “You’re not possessed or anything? No new gods?”

“No—but I’m beginning to wonder if I’m _amissis meum animo*_.” He rubs at his temples and then looks at her—surrounded by papers, clearly busy. “But I assume you don’t want to hear about that at the moment.”

“Yes,” Midna rolls her eyes. “I would much rather do all this boring paperwork for an alliance I don’t want to form than speak with you about something that has you...” She narrows her eyes for a minute. “...happier? Did something good happen last night, for you at least?”

“...Maybe.” He sighs—he’s forgotten his mask in his bedroom. “I don’t know—I tried to sleep last night, but...something moved and then...” He shakes his head. “I’m overthinking it, it was just a dream.”

“Oh, come on, you cannot just trail off right when you’re about to say what it is and dismiss it, I need a distraction.” There’s something... “I think I know what it is—Is it Ghirahim?”

His eyes widen the slightest bit. “How’d you guess?”

“You have white lipstick on your face.”

Zant curses and tries to rub it off with his hands—sure enough, a small bit of white rests on his fingers, smudged. “So maybe it wasn’t a dream. I don’t know, he was just...standing over me, but he had black marks all over his body, like cracks. And he just, in general, was in a state of disarray, and at first he didn’t seem to know he was dead, then he thought we were both dead, and then I told him I had been brought back and...” He frowns—or maybe he smiles. Midna’s gotten no better at reading his facial expressions. She thinks it’s a frown. “He said he’d be there when I woke up, but when I woke up, he wasn’t there. The bag was knocked over though.”

“Is Ghirahim...okay?” Midna asks.

“He didn’t really say—but he’s just as conceited as he was before, so I assume so.”

“...That’s good, I guess?”

“Maybe—but I’m slightly worried I didn’t see him this morning. I just hope I see him eventually—I don’t even know how he’s alive.”

“That was a decent distraction,” Midna decided. “Thanks.”

“ _Semper_ , my queen.”

The end of the next week comes too quickly, and before she knows it, Midna’s standing in the Gerudo Desert, the Arbiter’s Ground nothing but ruin around them, Zant next to her. “ _Damnare_ ,” Midna breathes. “Did this desert get hotter than last time?”

“No,” Zant says. “It’s been this unbearably hot since the first time we came here.”

“Ugh.” She sighs—her attire only helps a bit. Zant must be melting in his outfit.

Finding their way out of the Arbiter’s Grounds is fairly easy, since the entire building is in disrepair, falling apart. Dust hangs in the air and clings to the back of Midna’s throat. “We’re going to have to find a way to move the Mirror of Twilight out of here,” she says. “I mean, sure, we can get out of here just find, but this area doesn’t look safe in the slightest.”

“Noted,” Zant says.

The first time they went to Hyrule, they had been escorted there by a young woman in Hyrule’s colors, who seemed to know absolutely nothing about them or who they were, but tried desperately not to ask too many questions—she had come with a slightly older, though not much older, man who had kept glancing at Zant and then proceeded to subtly flirt with him before realizing that Zant’s polite responses did not mean he was interested and then had joined in on a conversation with Midna and the woman about recent events in Hyrule and how they should really be escorted by more than two people, and how come they hadn’t brought any means of protection with them?

This time, it’s a young man in a green tunic and a blue scarf. “No way,” Midna says. “No way.”

Link smiles at them both goodnaturedly. Before he can even begin to try and say anything, Midna interrupts. “Link? You’re doing escorts now?”

“Hello, Midna.”

Midna grins. “I’ll have you know it’s Queen Midna now, hero! I didn’t see you when we came a week ago!”

“I didn’t believe the rumors,” Link shrugs. “Had I known everything for sure, I would have been here the first time, but...” He trails off. “It’s good to see you, Queen Midna.” He looks at Zant—for a minute, there is a flicker of confusion, but he just says, “And your advisor?”

“Yep, that’s him.”

“Sorry for almost murdering you,” Zant says.

“Everyone’s kind of tried to at this point—anyway, should we get going?”

He leads the way through the desert, Midna talking with him the entire time. “So,” she begins. “What’s with the princess?”

Link shrugs, biting his lip. “She’s...” He clears his throat. “Princess Zelda’s working on becoming a queen—her coronation is a little under six months away.”

“Right,” Midna says. “...How’s that going?”

“...As good as it can,” Link says. “Her father’s pushing for her to find a suitor of some sort—says her mother was already trying to find one at her age, so she should to. ...I feel kind of bad for her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well...It’s kind of common knowledge at this point—Most of Hyrule’s queens have a tendency to die in childbirth, like the princess’ mother, and because the Triforce of Wisdom is a birthright of the royal family and because, they’re royalty, they have to give birth at some point. At this point, it just looks like the Queens of Hyrule’s lives grow shorter and shorter...”

“That’s just sad,” Midna says.

“It is—I mean, at this point, they’re just telling every princess that’s born that she’s going to die in childbirth, but not having a child isn’t an option, so they’re being raised just to have a kid and die. I don’t know how she can be half as happy as she is.” He sighs. “She’s a good person—I hope she makes a fine queen.”

Midna hesitates. This is kind of personal—but she’s curious. “Impa told me that the two of you never...”

Link blushes. “Ha, yeah.” The sun beats down over them, grueling and searing. “We...We tried. Multiple times. I just don’t think we’re compatible in that way. ...I’ve been told that I’m stupid, for not trying harder, since she’s the princess and all, but I feel more comfortable serving her and protecting her and the kingdom then I ever will in a relationship with her.” His expression darkens, the slightest bit. “That and I disagree with a lot of the...politics she believes in.”

“You aren’t referring to this alliance we’re supposed to be forming, right?” Midna asks.

“Oh, no,” Link says. “...It’s...one of the laws, that she’s totally okay with. ...The one that has the death penalty if you’re caught in ‘gross indecency,’ whatever that means.”

“So you disagree with that law too?” Midna asks.

“I think the death penalty is a bit harsh, at least,” Link says. “It’s cruel—the trial’s against you from the start, and then everyone is disgusted with you for such a thing, and you die with everyone hating you. Usually alongside whoever was also engaging in ‘gross indecency’ with you. ...I’m a little frustrated with her over that, but she has a good heart. And it’s not her fault...”

“I thought for sure the two of you would be married or something by now,” Midna says.

Link rubs the back of his neck. “No. We just weren’t right for each other. Honestly, she was relieved when we decided that. ...It was a little strange. Also, it just...felt weird in general—I have no place in politics, and every part of our relationship felt public.”

“Sounds stressful,” Midna says.

Link shrugs.

Done grilling him, Midna goes quiet—the air around them starts to cool as they reach Hyrule Field, slowly moving away from the desert. The temperature is a low lower and the heels on Midna’s feet (that she doesn’t want to wear) quit sinking into the sand as they walk over the grassy land of Hyrule.

Before they know it, they reach Castle Town—the sun is beginning to set, but it’s still fairly bright out, whereas last time, they had arrived during the night. Castle Town is still full of people, and they all look at them as they pass by. Some whisper, some clearly recognize Link, but overall, the trip to the castle feels uneventful. The castle looms over them, casting a shadow. Midna looks up and sighs—she does not want this.

But she doesn’t really have any other choice.

For a minute, out of the corner of her eye, she can see something blue, bobbing in an onlooking crowd—and she finds herself smiling.

“Princess Zelda?” There’s a knock on her door. “May I come in?”

“Yes, Impa!” She closes the book she’s reading. She’s changed into a nightdress of white silk and has taken her hair out of it’s braid. The door opens quietly and Impa steps in, shutting the door behind her.

“Good—I was worried you were trying to sleep.”

“It’s not that late,” Zelda says.

“I just thought you would like to know, Queen Midna and her advisor arrived tonight—but due to the time, the meeting’s been pushed to tomorrow, which I assume you already know.” Zelda nods. Impa smiles. “Do you need anything, Princess?”

“No,” she decides. “I’m good—thank you, Impa.”

She turns on her heel and starts toward the door. “Wait.” There’ something that’s been on her mind for awhile, something really bothering her. “...Impa, I don’t mean to pry, but...I heard a rumor you were considering resigning from your position.” Something flickers in her scarlet eyes. “...Is it true then?”

She scoffs, lightly, and looks away. “Rumors in this castle spread like wildfire,” she laments. “...This is why you keep things to yourself and tell no one.” She sighs—and for a minute, Zelda can see how’s she’s aged over the years. She’s never really looked old, and for her age, she looks amazing, but she’s never looked so tired. “Princess, when the Queen was in labor, she asked me to make sure I protected you. She didn’t care as much about the kingdom, said because I had served as a general for two years by then and knew it was in good hands and knew I’d be more than willing to give my life for Hyrule—but she wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“And you’ve done an amazing job,” Zelda says. “You taught me how to wield a sword and a bow.”

“I’m not as good as a teacher as I should be,” Impa responds. “I was fortunate—you were naturally talented, and everytime you fell, you got right back up as if it had never happened.” She looks distant. “...Princess, serving you has been an honor. I am proud to have fought for the kingdom, and for you. I cannot tell you how proud I am, to have you watched you grow into such a strong, intelligent young woman, and I really do believe you could make a great queen...”

Zelda deflates. “It’s about...West of Hyrule Field...isn’t it?”

Impa crosses her arms. “I’m sorry, princess—my head is not as clear as it used to be. The War was terrible—I saw so many of our troops die in battle, so many young lives cut short, so much bloodshed and ruin... And I was alright. _That battle_ broke something inside me—and everytime I close my eyes, I see bodies strewn across the land, unnecessary deaths. And our troops are no longer troops, no longer people—just bodies, limp, lifeless, bloody...cold.” Something in her eyes harden. “I...I cannot...”

Something clicks in Zelda’s mind. “You’re angry,” she realizes.

“Not at you,” she says softly. “You could not have helped it, it was the king who allowed this to happen, who gave too much power to a man too young and too inexperienced and...ruthless, he was ruthless and stupid.” Zelda isn’t sure if she’s talking about the king or the captain the king had sent. “And I am not angry at our troops—they were just confused. They had no way to know...” She sighs.

“But isn’t that why we need you? Our general? To make sure none of our captains will abuse their power?”

“Princess,” Impa says. “I am sorry. Whatever you need of me, I will do. I am loyal to you, still, I am loyal to Hyrule... But I cannot serve like this. And ever since Lana...” She takes a deep breath. “I am sorry, my lady. I cannot continue to serve...”

“You can say it.” It’s quiet, but Zelda means it. “Go ahead and say it.”

“I cannot continue to serve the king like this,” Impa says. “I am too angry. I should have a clear head in protecting the royal family...I should not wish harm upon it’s members. I fear I will do more harm than good continuing to serve you, Princess.

“But I can assure you—I would not leave if I feared for your safety. But I have had the pleasure of being with you since you were a child and teaching you how to fight—I know you can protect yourself. And I believe Link would make a fine general, if you were to put him in charge—so I believe the army would be in good hands.” She sighs. “Princess Zelda, it really has been a pleasure. You should be proud.”

“Do you...Do you mean that in a sarcastic way, like you sometimes do or...?”

“I mean it truthfully. You should be proud.” Impa’s smile is gentle. “I know I am. And I know your mother would be.”

“I know the two of you grew close during her pregnancy,” Zelda says, quietly. “But...why would you watch out for her daughter like this so carefully? For nineteen years, Impa. Was your friendship worth nineteen years?”

“I’d say...It was worth seven years. The relationship I’ve formed with you, however? A hundred. A thousand. Trillions. I would serve you for millennia, if I only could, if I thought I could do it well. ...Also, if we could survive that long.”

Zelda smiles. “Night, Impa.”

“Good night, Princess.” She bows and leaves, shutting the door behind her quietly.

Zelda sighs—that had not gone the way she had hoped. She had been hoping Impa would laugh at the very idea, but...She respects Impa’s decision—and it’s not like she’s wrong. Zelda knows she’s skilled with a sword, knows Link would make an amazing general... But she isn’t so sure if she would make a good queen.

She sighs and goes to the balcony—she needs a breath of fresh air. The night is cool on her skin—she breathes in deeply, resting her eyes.

Thousands of stars are embedded in the night sky, bright and shining, clear. All around, the land looks beautiful. A bird flies and lands on the railing next to her.

...It’s a seagull.

Zelda frowns. Seagulls don’t usually come around this part of Hyrule. Usually, seagulls stay by the sea, she’s pretty sure.

The seagull squawks at her—then flies elsewhere.

...There’s a strange, all consuming anxiety growing, starting in her chest. Not the sense of dread she had right before the war, or when she thought the war was over only to see the Demon King Ganondorf leading an army of monsters towards the castle, or when she had gone to the medical wing to find Impa, and while Lana was usually the one to be healing the troops, instead she was in a cot, bleeding heavily and bruised all over while Impa got her broken ribs treated and shouted at a very young, very nervous medic that he was doing things wrong and was gonna kill Lana. Something much smaller—it’s not world breaking, and no one’s lives are in danger, but she feels sick with a worry she doesn’t understand either way.

The feeling follows her to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regin meis: Directly translates to “my queen” in Twili. Incredibly respectful and usually indicates a fondness towards said queen. The equivalent for a king is, “meis rex” and when used in gender neutral terms, “meis prereg,” which combines a part of the Twili word for “kingdom” and a part of the Twili word for “leader or ruler.”
> 
> Eloi: When faced with a very difficult decision, Twili will usually pray Eloi, who’s said to be a god meant to help with them. He doesn’t always offer his help and is said to not exist in comparison to other Twili gods who’s existence is much more certain.
> 
> Exspiravit: Basically a ghost in the Twili form—usually a voice that speaks and doesn’t seem to belong to anyone, or a wordless, pale form you see in the corner of your eye, and rarely both. These are commonly people who have been brought into the afterlife and rejected it, usually due to something they regret or still want to do. It is their grit that keeps them in the world of the living, and the longer they are dead, the less determination they have and the more they fade. No one is really certain if exspiravits are real or just legends and stories told to children and teenagers to scare them.
> 
> Cinnium: A measurement of time in the Twilight Realm—due to how differently time passes in the Twilight Realm, converting it to Hyrule’s measurements is incredibly difficult.
> 
> Bibe: While it directly translates to “drink” in Twili, it’s much more commonly used to refer to drinking alcohol.
> 
> Alcohol: While perfectly legal in the Twilight Realm, about twelve percent of it’s population follow the teachings of Akoni, which tends to require a lack of any sort of bibe. These teachings are usually followed by felons and criminals who repent and wish to turn over a new leaf, and hope that Akoni will guide them.
> 
> amissis meum animo: a Twili phrase that translates to something like, “losing my mind.” It is almost always used in a much more serious sense—such as when people genuinely fear they are beginning to lose their mind.


	4. Chapter 4

Midna figures out why Link is so against the law the next morning, when she sees him chatting with a very obviously male guard with dark-ish skin and light eyes. There’s something about Link’s tone that seems a little too warm, a little too fond. She doesn’t say anything—the last thing she wants is to get Link in any trouble—he’s nothing but kind and brave, he doesn’t deserve to be killed over a stupid law.

A few servants who walk by in the hall gossip about a rumor of a sorceress.

“Yeah,” says one who looks to be of Gerudo descent, dark skin and flaming red hair with dark eyes. “My cousin, she works at a shop in Castle Town,” she says. “And she saw her.”

“Sure she did!” Another woman laughs—she’s so pale, she looks sickly with long, dark hair twisted into a bun.

“No,” a third says. “I saw her too! She was pale and beautiful—I’ve never seen a woman so pretty as her!”

“Careful, _vai*_ ,” the red haired one says, glancing around.

“Well, it’s true. She had bright blue hair and purple eyes. A group of men were whispering about her, outside of the tavern nearby. One tried to flirt with her, but she just asked him if he knew anything about the Queen of Twilight going into the castle.”

Said Queen of Twilight is lingering next to Link—they are both listening into this conversation. The girls are being idiotically loud, but are laughing and smiling happily—they’re obviously close. Midna can’t even remember when she used to be so close to someone.

“I guess when the woman learned about the whole alliance thing going on, she said she had to go do something and ran off,” the third girl says. She sighs dreamily. “So mysterious!”

“...I’m not sure if you’re jealous of how cute she is or gay,” the red haired girl says.

“She wasn’t cute—she was gorgeous.”

The dark haired girl nods. “A little bit of both, definitely. Watch it, Veri*, they’re really starting to crack down on that stuff.”

The third rolls her eyes. “You know I’m not like that,” she argues. They all walk away, laughing and giggling, like friends do.

“Huh,” Link says. “That sounds an awful lot like Lana.”

“Whatever happened to her?” Midna asks. She doesn’t mention that she swears she saw her inan onlooking crowd the night before. She had told Zant and Zant had kind of just shrugged her off.

“I don’t know, she kind of disappeared after the War in West Hyrule Field,” Link says.

“...What?” She wonders why no one else has brought up a second war. “There was a second war?”

“Kind of—that’s what it’s being called right, but maybe ‘battle’ works better?”

“What happened?”

Link sucks in a breath and rubs at the back of his neck. “I don’t know all of the details, because I was away, taking care of a group of monsters half way across the kingdom when it happened, but from what I know...There was another group of monsters, but like, more of a worry, and I couldn’t handle them, so they sent a small group of soldiers to take care of it. ...They didn’t come back, so they sent a slightly larger one, lead by Impa and Lana, because Lana wanted to help and seemed...worried about something. ...But things started going south—they weren’t normal monsters, so Impa was going to send someone to get reinforcements, but Lana said no, that won’t work, send me.

“...And I guess Impa assumed Lana knew what she was talking about, so she sent Lana like she insisted—but the king had already sent reinforcements...These men were like, still trainees, and they didn’t recognize Lana—they assumed she was an enemy, I guess? And considered her a threat that needed to be neutralized. Meanwhile, Impa was still with the other troops and they were being slaughtered by these monsters. When the reinforcements Lana didn’t send came, they started attacking and killed about a hundred troops before they even realized that there was even any of our forces there.

“But they kept attacking. And then they recognized Impa and realized something was up, and by then the monsters had retreated and Impa asked if they were the reinforcements Lana had asked for, and they didn’t know who Lana was. And then Impa started to panic, I guess, and then eventually, she realized they had taken her prisoner, assuming she was an enemy and Impa asked what the hell was wrong with them.”

“... _sanctus stercore_.” That sounded bad.

“I...don’t know what that means, but yeah,” Link said. “I mostly just know about the aftermath. I guess, when the soldiers started attacking her on sight, Lana went into fight or flight mode and chose ‘fight,’ which I think is what happens when you fight in a war on the front lines. So, they were really harsh when they beat her. She had broken ribs, limbs, cracks in her skull, they somehow managed to break her sternum and then they struggled so much with transporting her, something happened and Lana also broke her spine.”

“You’re joking.”

“Impa had like, one broken rib, a broken arm, and then a minor concussion. A medic tried to heal Lana, but it got to the point where Impa just gave her a potion and tried to wake up up and Lana had to heal herself because she was so horribly beaten that the medic didn’t know what to do.” The hall is silent, other than Link’s voice, telling this horrific tale. “Lana survived, barely, made almost a full recovery. She can still run very fast and she can be strong when she needs to, but she takes too high of a fall in the right place and she might never walk again. If she gets hit in the right place, it could shatter her skull in a way skulls shouldn’t be able to do. ...She spent months in that cot, taking care of the worst of her injuries that needed immediate treatment and then passing out, waking up to tend to them again and then passing out. She was delirious, always running a fever, always shivering, always weak, but she didn’t eat and she was always talking to herself.

“As it turns out, while the princess had helped figure out what to do, the king had taken charge a bit after and his soldiers weren’t told there’d be others. The entire thing is weird and horrible—it’s considered a major failure. A lot of people died—most of which shouldn’t have.”

The quiet is haunting. It’s wrong. “Poor Lana.”

“Yeah,” Link sighs. “The king tried to pin the blame on her—for fighting back, I guess. And this was when she was just barely regaining a normal person’s amount of energy and health, still bound to a cot. ...She might not have entirely gotten over it.”

“She could have died,” Midna says. It doesn’t make any sense—all of Midna had known about her, Lana was surrounded in tragedy, but she had been full of life. She had been agile, strong, brave, she had been willing to fight... The fact that Link is implying she almost died, spent months bed bound, weak and broken... The image he is planting in her mind wounds her very soul.

“Thank the goddesses, she didn’t.”

“Do you think it’s true she’s in Castle Town?” Midna asks.

Link shrugs. “I try not to believe in people’s gossip—gossip spreads easily around here, whether it’s true or not and... It might be.”

Midna nods. She’s going to have to make a visit to Castle Town at some point. “So, if you don’t spend all day listening to gossip, what do you do?”

Link shrugs. “I help train the soldiers. I investigate parts of the kingdom when the princess tells me to—like, last week, there was a band of thieves harassing some sort of traveling nobility. Once a week, I end up visiting Agitha for tea because she gets kind of offended when I refuse to come, so I have to come about once a week and every time I end up returning covered in grasshoppers and beatles.” He shrugs. “Not much has really happened, other than this. The kingdom’s been quiet.”

Midna’s just about to open her mouth to ask another question—but Link frowns. “...Is that smoke?” He turns to the right—a door is ajar and smoke slowly creeps out of the room. Midna can hear the crackling of fire. “...Oh,” he says, his eyes wide. “That’s bad.”

There’s a tap on his shoulder—he looks over. “Ghirahim?”

“Who do you think it is?” Ghirahim snarls. He looks angry, his eyes narrowed, arms crossed over his chest. Zant had almost forgotten about the black lines all over his body. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for little under a week.”

Zant straightens. “...You have?”

“Yes, I have!” Ghirahim throws his arms into the air. “How have you not _noticed_?”

“I’ve been waiting little under a week to see you again. When I woke up after that night, I couldn’t see you.”

“...What?”

“...Ghirahim, are you okay?”

He was silent. His brow was furrowed, deep in thought—Zant didn’t know what he was thinking about. Honestly, he had been finding himself struggling to know what to think about Ghirahim, like they were in the Gerudo Desert all over again, like they didn’t know each other. The fact that they do actually know each other makes it sting—how long had he spent, longing for the other’s company, for him? Too long—but he didn’t know what to say to him. The kiss from a week ago had burned itself into his memory, along with his initial surprise. How could Zant feel surprised over that? Physical contact was not a rarity from Ghirahim, and Ghirahim was always flirting—he was just very flirtatious, as if by nature. Now, Zant’s wondering if he spent so long, yearning for the touch of an equivalent to a stranger.

“My sweetest, darling Twili,” Ghirahim says. “Where’s the bag?”

He gestures to the table he placed the bag on. Ghirahim goes over to it and sifts through it—when he pulls his hand out, his gloves are a bit torn, but he isn’t bleeding at all. He pulls out a red gem. “Ah...”

“...Is there something wrong?”

Ghirahim doesn’t give him a direct answer. He shows Zant the scarlet gem in his hand. “It’s broken.”

“I thought that was the one part of you that wasn’t in pieces,” Zant says.

“No,” he says. He turns it, showing a very, very tiny fracture in it. “It’s broken.”

“Really? That tiny crack makes it broken?”

“Well, that, and the fact that the entire blade of my sword fell off it’s hilt and shattered into a trillion pieces,” Ghirahim says. “But yes. That will do it. That will do me in.”

“So. You can survive being shattered into oblivion, but a piece of the gem, that’s smaller than a grain of salt, is no longer connected to the rest of it, and...”

“Yes. What part of ‘That will do me in,’ don’t you grasp, darling?” Zant’s almost forgotten that Ghirahim calls him ‘darling’ sometimes. “Yes.”

“...That doesn’t make sense to me.”

Ghirahim shrugs. “In all of time, there’s only been two sword spirits to ever exist. One of them has resigned herself to rest dormant in the Master Sword, likely for all of eternity. The other stands in front of you in all his glory.”

“And I’m very grateful for that,” Zant says, Ghirahim nods, accepting the compliment. “But don’t you know anything about your existence and creation?”

“Do you know anything about your own?”

The door opens before their conversation can continue. Midna steps in and looks like she’s about to say something, then notices Ghirahim and pauses. “...Should I come back later?” She asks, tone dry.

“You see him too, right?” Zant asks.

“Yes.” Midna looks at the two of them. “I do. Um...I’m just here to say that we aren’t gonna be able to talk to Princess Zelda and...Whatever the king’s name is, because someone set a room on fire and I’m going to Castle Town.”

“Okay—Wait, did you say someone set a room on fire?”

“Yeah.” She runs a hand through her hair. “And they think it was arson because they found a broken lantern, but no one was hurt and it’s been handled. Anyway, I heard a rumor that Lana’s somewhere in Castle Town, and I’m hoping to catch her before she disappears off the map again—“ She stops. “Did you know there was a war thing?”

“...Yes,” Zant says. “I fought in it. On the opposite side of you.”

“No, I mean...After that. Apparently, Lana got really injured and it was a massive failure and totally pointless and achieved nothing.”

“...I don’t know anything about that, Midna,” Zant says.

“Link told me about it—it sounded horrible.” She sighs. “Anyway, I’m leaving, figured you should know so you don’t spend the better half of the day looking for me...Again.”

“What were you _doing_ in the _cellar_?”

“It’s a long story, anyway, see you, Zant, bye, Ghirahim.” She leaves quickly, obviously in a rush.

Ghirahim sighs, stretching his arms over his head. “What did she say about Lana?”

“Oh, Midna has a huge crush on her and never got the chance to tell her and has been wondering about her for awhile,” Zant says.

“Mm...” Ghirahim shuts his eyes, seemingly deep in thought. “And Lana, you said, was the one who gave you that bag over there?”

Zant really wishes he knows what Ghirahim’s getting at. “Yes.”

Ghirahim grins. “We should pay her a visit.”

“Yes,” Zant says. “I’m sure she would like nothing better than to see us, the two people who beat her senseless to retrieve the Triforce for a man who wanted her dead and tried to take over the kingdom and then almost murdered her at a later date in the desert after isolating her from her allies, especially a year after that all happened, and not too long after she fought in some second battle that apparently greatly injured her.”

Ghirahim rolls his eyes. “Come on, don’t be daft. We aren’t going to hurt her—but she gave you all that, and as nice as it was, I’m not quite in the mood to die right now, and she’s the only person who might be able to help me—so I can either do it by myself, or you can come help me.”

It’s not even a choice. There’s no way he’d let Ghirahim go out into Castle Town by himself—and just like that, he wonders if he’d follow Ghirahim to the ends of the earth if he so required him. “...I will come with you.”

Ghirahim smiles—and it looks genuine. “Lovely. We can make a date night out of it, it’ll be great fun.”

Zant sighs and grabs the bag off of the table. He’s not sure if he actually wants to go out in public—he doesn’t think he does. He doesn’t when he’s in the Twilight Realm, but there he has things to busy himself with, to ignore how much of a debate there is on the fact that he still exists. Ghirahim plants a gentle kiss on the side of his face, through his mask—it sends warmth rushing through his skin.

“You do know engaging in physical contact like that will be very illegal, right?” He asks.

“Yes, but on the other hand—a lot of what we did is really illegal, so.”

“Ghirahim, that was twelve _cinnium_ ago for me. Even more for you.”

“And here, it’s only one year. Perfect timing for another illegal thing.”

“ _Akoni_ , let’s just do this.”

A small smile plays on his lips, different from the one he was just wearing. “I do hope you’re as much fun as you were your twelve _cinnium_ ago.”

Something is really, really bothering her, itching beneath her skin. She doesn’t know what to do—but she hears rumors, in the hallways of the castle, of a sorceress with blue hair who knows the future.

The thing is, she knows it’s Lana—and now she can’t stop thinking about the War in West Hyrule Field—of Lana being whispered about like she had done something horrible, all the nobility scoffing about how the princess could be friends with someone like her, especially due to her ties to the witch who caused all of this mess.

She’s not sure in the end what possesses her to disguise herself and sneak out of the castle—but all of a sudden, she’s standing in front of the mirror in her chambers, cowl covering her mouth, in a skin tight outfit. She doesn’t know how to dress normally, and rumors spread so easily, and everyone will know if the princess of Hyrule is seen out and about in Castle Town and goddesses, what would her father say?

Probably how she’s still just a child if she’s going to act so rebellious, how her mother would be disappointed, how she needs to be ready for the throne—goddesses, the throne is such a _headache_.

It’s easy to get out of the castle. They spend so much time, careful about who exactly gets in, but never caring who gets out.

She wonders if she looks the way she should—it’s been a while since she’s dressed up as Sheik. Like, a long time. Her clothing feels a bit too tight, but she’ll be fine—and did she always look quite so androgynous?

She supposes it doesn’t matter.

Soon enough, she is in Castle Town. People hustle about and she manages to find her way through—it’s strange, being here by herself, but it’s also liberating in a way, especially since there’s no need to be so poised or elegant. No one even looks at her as she passes by. She doesn’t feel like she’s being seen, versus, in the castle, where she is always seen, wherever she goes.

The murmuring of conversations is louder than her foot steps, people passing by as they chat in pairs or trios. “What are you planning on doing tomorrow?” “Did you hear?” “It’s been so long since I’ve last seen you!” “Sure is some beautiful weather we’re having?” “Hey, do you know why there was smoke pouring out of one of the windows of the castle?”

Zelda (or maybe it’s Sheik? She doesn’t know—it’s not like her name’s a dead giveaway or anything, ‘Zelda’ has become such a common name over the years, there’s thousands in her kingdom.) glances around. _Alright, on second thought, maybe this was a bad idea—_

She stops.

About ten yards away, by the fountain, a young woman stands. Her hair is pulled into a blue ponytail, with a red feathered hair clip. She is dressed much differently than Zelda remembers—a white top that, while it still bares Lana’s midriff, covers a bit more and is secured by a single strap on her shoulder. The neckline is square and she’s dressed in white pants that cling to her legs, adorned with gold, a short blue skirt over it and there’s a leather strap securing her spellbook to her. Her back is turned, speaking with someone.

She’s just about to rush forward when someone runs into her and she falls to the ground.

“Oh!” Someone gasps and immediately, a hand grabs onto hers, warm and smooth. “I’m so sorry!” The stranger pulls her up and Zelda blinks.

The stranger is female, with a slight tan and red hair, though not seemingly Gerudo. She smiles at her, She has warm, brown eyes and a flower in her hair. A dress bluer than the seas hangs on her thin frame. “Are you alright?” She asks.

“Um...” She can’t think. She’s not even sure if she can breathe. This stranger is pretty. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Please, it’s my fault,” she says. “I...Well, I don’t even know where I’m going, ha! Oh, you have such a pretty harp!”

Zelda almost forgot about it. “Oh. Thank you!” Her heart skips a beat. “Do you play?”

“I do, actually!” She beams, with pride. “I’m very good. I’ve never really gotten a chance to prove it, but I _think_ I’m good. My name’s Marin.” She offers her hand.

Zelda’s not sure if she’s ever shaken someone’s hand. She reluctantly grasps it. “I...I...I’m Sheik.”

“That’s...an interesting name,” Marin says. “But I was named after my father, he just replaced one letter and called it a day, so maybe it’s normal around here.”

“It’s um...” Why can’t she think straight? “It’s passed down through the Sheikiah tribe.”

“...Sh...Sheikiah? Never heard of it.”

“You...” ...Who _is_ she? “You’ve never heard of the Sheikiah?”

“No. Well, I’m not from around here, I don’t know much of anything, it seems.” She looks around. “Sorry for bumping into you. Are you okay?”

“I’m perfectly fine.” She swallows. “So...You’re new to Hyrule or just Castle Town?”

“Yes,” Marin responds. “Well...I’ve been working at an inn just north of here for awhile now. About...two weeks? But...” She sighs. “I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“An inn?” Zelda asks. “The one by the castle, you mean?”

“Mhm.” Marin nods. “I help guide people to their rooms, wake them up if they need me to, and usually in the afternoon, I’m just singing near the front desk. Tria—she works at the front desk—gets lonely and bored and she really likes listening to me sing. She hates the quiet. In return, I get some money throughout the week and a room.”

“Nice.”

Marin smiles. “Do you live around here?”

“No. I mean...Yes. I do. I live around here.” ...Okay, is it normal to find someone so attractive? These are the important questions. Zelda’s so confused.

Marin giggles. “Alright, cool. I should get going, I really need to get back to the inn—it was so nice talking with you, Sheik.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “If you’re ever around, you should visit me at the inn.” With only a warm smile and without another word, Marin walks off—the sunlight ripples on her hair.

Zelda’s still confused.

Her back is to her. Midna tries to think of what to say—because what can she say? How do you talk to someone when it’s been a year since they’ve seen you and for you, over a decade since you’ve seen them? Midna supposes you don’t—maybe it’d be easier to leave and never speak to Lana again, to save them both the awkwardness. All of a sudden, she swears she can feel every single flaw on her body, every minor scar, the few stretch marks on her thighs. ...Maybe this is a bad idea—

Lana turns around—and then stops and looks at her. For a minute, all is silent—the people around them and their conversations still continue, but Midna can’t hear them. All she can hear is her own heart, pounding in her chest. “...Midna?”

“Hey, Lana.”

“Oh goddesses, is everyone in Castle Town today?” Lana asks. Behind her, an androgynous teenager runs into some girl with red hair. Lana looks her over her shoulder and then back at Midna. “I’ve already ran into Link, Agitha, Impa, Zant _and_ Ghirahim within the last hour!”

“...Wait, Zant’s out here?”

“Yeah, he was with Ghirahim.” That makes slightly more sense—Zant very much struggles with going outside by himself. “They just wanted to talk to me about something...” She smiles. “So, what’s new?”

Midna smiles. “Lots of things. That’s what happens as time passes. You look different.”

She did—not just in the way that she was dressed differently, but in the way that she held herself slightly different, and how tired she looked.

“So do you,” Lana says. “You’re much taller.”

“Ha, yeah. I’m not cursed anymore.” The awkwardness is tangible. “I was here last week. It was weird...No one seemed to know where you were.”

“Yeah,” Lana sighed. “I’ve been...traveling.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um...it’s not that...” She clears her throat. “It’s not that I’m not happy to see you, Midna, it’s just that...I um...” She swallows—the noice is audible. “It’s not that I’m not happy to see you, I’m...I’m thrilled to see you again, I wasn’t sure if I ever would, it’s just... Now’s a bad time.”

“Is there ever gonna be a good time?” Midna asks. She’s genuinely curious—every time she comes to Hyrule, it’s to help save lives—first purely to save her own realm, then this realm along with her realm because she realized she couldn’t not help them too, then this realm again, and now, she has to form an alliance so her people don’t die.

She doesn’t expect Lana to clasp her hands. Sparkling in her bright purple eyes is nothing but viscously kind honesty. “There will be,” she says. “I promise. ...I’m...I’m going to go to Agitha’s tomorrow. For tea.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I haven’t seen her in awhile, but I’m sure she’d love to see you too. She says you already visited her.” She smiles, gentle and bright. “...Maybe we can talk then.”

This...is not how Midna pictured this going. She’s not sure how she pictured it going, but... “I’ll be there. What time?”

“About noon.” Lana briefly checks over her shoulder—people are beginning to mill about, slowly leaving the area. “I...I really do want to talk to you, Midna.”

“I really want to talk to you too.” There’s a pause. “I...I guess I’ll get going. Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” Lana says. She nods, her hand going to the necklace around her neck, fingers tracing over the pendant.

Midna bites back a sigh. “Alright then. ...I’ll see you later.”

Lana nods again.

Midna bumps into the teenager she saw behind Lana a few minutes ago—they’re pale, with wild blond hair and scarlet eyes, wearing a cowl. Midna pauses—they look familiar, but she doesn’t know who they are.

She slowly walks away. She doesn’t totally understand. “ _Damnare luxers*_...” She mutters under her breath.

The sun is slowly, slowly, slowly setting, the sky going blood red. The area around them is empty except for Zelda (disguised as Sheik) and Lana. Before Zelda can speak up and grab Lana’s attention, she turns around. Her face is almost blank. “...How exactly do you want me to greet you?” She asks.

“Um...”

“As Sheik or Zelda?”

She pulls her cowl up a little farther. “Sheik is fine.”

Lana nods. “Alright, then. _Sheik_.”

“Lana, I...” She stops for a minute. “I wanted to apologize.”

“What for?”

“...I hear they’re calling it the War in West Hyrule Field,” she says. “I guess I never looked at it as a war, since...it only lasted two days, but...I imagine it must have at least felt like a war for those in it.” Lana looks away, clearly uncomfortable. “...I’m sorry, Lana. You have been nothing but loyal to Hyrule—throughout the war across the ages, you were willing to fight with us, even against Cia, and...I know it was hard on you, and then you had to fight a second time. I’m so sorry.”

Lana shrugs. “It wasn’t as bad as people say it was—at least I got out with my life.”

“But there shouldn’t have been any doubt about that. Or at least, it shouldn’t have happened due to negligence on mine and my father’s part.”

“It wasn’t really your fault.”

“I feel like I could have done something. Like I could have helped.” She sighs. “Impa tells me that my being there wouldn’t have solved anything, that I likely would have just gotten injured, or worse...And then Hyrule would be without a princess. Maybe that’s just the War Across the Ages speaking to me, saying I should be fighting on the front lines with all the soldiers, because now everything feels like a threat worthy to be fighting. ...You didn’t get the thanks you deserved—but you were an incredibly, fearsome ally, and I was proud to fight alongside you, as I know Link and Impa was, as well. ...I can’t speak for everyone else, but... I’m sorry, I’m all over the place.”

Lana smiles weakly. “Thank you, Sheik. It’s very kind of you to say that—I was more than glad to fight alongside Hyrule.” She wipes her palms on her skirt, but the gesture looks more like she’s brushing something off of it. “...But somehow, I doubt this was all you wanted to talk about.”

She hesitates. “...I’m...concerned,” she says at last. Lana looks away. “Once Cia was gone, you just kind of disappeared. I... I feared you were gone for good, and I worry that we only saw you due to the fact that the war hadn’t ended. And now, it’s...now. You were beaten up savagely by people who were supposed to be your allies and you’ve disappeared again, except, instead of without a trace, there’s a bunch of rumors about you.”

“Yeah—it’s kind of weird how quickly rumors spread around here.”

“The majority of them really are just rumors—one girl said your hair was pink, and another said it was white, and some guy said he was pretty sure you were a ghost.” Lana smiles again. “...Anyway, I just...want to make sure you’re okay. Because I guess I care about you?”

“With all due respect—you are very bad in conversations.” Lana’s smile is gentle, her tone warm.

She can feel her face warm up. “Yeah, I know. Sorry, I...” _I don’t have a lot of friends? I never learned how to speak to people outside of a formal situation? It’s not even endearing, it’s just painful to watch because I fumble over my words and wait for my suffering to end and pray the other doesn’t despise me for how terrible this is._ She really _is_ bad in conversations!

“It’s fine, Sheik. I’m not angry with you, I’m not even sure if I’m angry. I’m just...not good.” She clears her throat. “I’m glad to have seen you.”

“Lana.” She cleared her throat again. “I’m...no good at this, but if you ever need a place to stay, I will make sure there is a room in the castle for you, for as long as you need. You were an ally to me and my kingdom, that hasn’t been forgotten.”

“I’m glad. If you’ll excuse me though, I actually have a room in a local inn right now.” It’s only getting later and later. “...I...don’t know how to say this without sounding really mysterious, but...” She bites her lip. “...Be careful, okay?”

“...Only if you will be too,” she responds.

She nods. “Can do. Goodnight, Sheik.”

It is not easy to sneak into her bedroom—but it’s not difficult, and because she really does have a right to be here, living here and all, she isn’t too worried. She still isn’t caught. When she’s back in her room, she looks into the mirror. She’s just about to change when there’s a knock on the door again. “Princess Zelda?” Impa calls through her door.

She freezes. “Um, just a minute!”

“...Can I come in, _Sheik_?”

She mutters a curse beneath her breath—she doesn’t swear often, but she knows she’s caught and she thinks that’s worthy of a swear. “...Yes, Impa.”

The door swings open and Impa shuts it behind her. For a minute, she stands there, in front of the door so the only escape is running to the balcony and jumping off, but getting away from a minor lecture isn’t worth going two dimensional on the ground below. Her arms are crossed and she looks at Zelda flatly. “Want to explain to me why you were out in Castle Town?”

“How did you know?”

“I have my ways,” Impa responds, totally dodging the question. “What were you doing?”

“It was nothing, Impa.”

Impa’s expression shifts and she sits down on her bed. It dips beneath her weight and she pats the place beside her. Without a second thought, Zelda walks over and sits down beside her. Impa is much taller than her, much stronger, more wide. Zelda looks like a twig compared to her. It’d intimidate anyone else—to Zelda, it’s comforting because she identifies Impa with strength and height. “I know it wasn’t nothing,” she says quietly. “Please forgive me, Princess, but I’m concerned. Is everything alright?”

She rubs at her arm a bit. “...It’s really nothing, Impa. ...I just...I heard a rumor Lana was in Castle Town.”

Impa nods. “I see,” she muses. “...Did you find her?”

Zelda nods. “Yes. She claims to be doing fine.” She can’t stop thinking...she rubs at her palm and then flips her hand over to look at the back of it, where her triforce lays beneath a layer of cloth.

“It isn’t nothing,” Impa says gently. “You always look at your Triforce when something is on your mind.”

“I just...met a very strange girl in town.”

Impa raises an eyebrow. “Agitha?”

“No. A girl my age.” Zelda thinks about how she helped her to her feet. “She had the most beautiful brown eyes I’ve ever seen and bright red hair. And a flower behind her ear. She said her name was Marin.”

Impa smiles. “You made a new friend?”

“I guess.” She doesn’t know how to put it in words—for all of her life, people always looked at as the descendant of another Zelda, who descended from another Zelda, just another princess to become just another queen and to become just another late mother to the next, eventually. Everyone was always watching—but for a minute, in the eyes of a stranger who didn’t recognize her, she had felt seen. She had also felt sweaty, awkward and stupid, but also seen. It had been...refreshing. “...Not even half of the royal court’s as pretty as she was.”

Impa chuckles. “Marin, you said?”

Zelda nods.

“Pretty name—did she say where she was from?”

“No...Somewhere far away. ...She was named after her father? She works at an inn. She sings. She had never heard of the Sheikiah tribe. She knows like, nothing of Hyrule.”

Impa nods. “Did you catch anything else or were you too distracted by her beauty?”

“She looked like a daydream, Impa.”

She chuckles again. Her response answers the question. “Oh, Princess. We really need to get you a better social life.”

“Can you just get one for me? I think I’ll scare everyone off.”

“Never fear, my lady—you’re not even remotely intimidating.” Impa sighs. “I’ll let you off the hook this once, Princess, since I can see you’re alright, but if I can’t find you like this again and you’ve disappeared without a trace again, even if I suspect you just snuck out of your bedroom again, I will start a search for you, your highness.”

“That sounds fair.” Impa smiles and stands. “I’m sorry, Impa, I hope I didn’t worry you.”

“It’s my job to worry,” she says simply. “...Make sure you change before leaving your room, so people don’t begin to wonder what a red eyed Sheikiah boy is doing in the castle, coming out of the Princess’ room.

She frowns, pulling down her cowl. “Do I really look like a guy?”

Impa shrugs. “At first glance...And perhaps, also second and third glance.” She bows. “Good night, Princess.”

“Good night, Impa.”

She continues to look at her palm—but she’s not looking at the Triforce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vai: a Gerudo word meaning “woman.” Is kind of used, but has yet to really catch on—for now, it’s more of an informal word, more like calling someone “girl,” during a conversation. Also, occasionally used simply as a feminine, appealing, simple name.
> 
> Veri: A Hylian name, pronounced “var-ee.” Means “plentiful, a lot” and is unisex.
> 
> Luxer: A slang word used in the Twilight Realm for referring to people in the Light Realm. Not commonly used, it’s much more common for people of the Light Realm to just be dubbed “Light Realmers.”


	5. Chapter 5

Zant starts the conversation with, “So, you know how there’s somethings you regret me telling you because they send you into fits of rage and you always tell me that you wish I didn’t tell you them?”

Midna pauses. “...Yes,” because she does.

“This is going to be one of those things.”

Midna sits down. “Alright,” she sighs. “Let me hear it.”

“...They figured out why there was a fire,” Zant says. “...Apparently, it was an act of protest.”

Midna has a bad feeling. “Oh no.”

Zant nods glumly. “Yes. By now, a lot of people have heard that Hyrule is forming an alliance with our realm—and the people are protesting against it.”

“I don’t like where this is going.”

“And now Princess Zelda is in a heated debate with her father and a bunch of nobles about whether or not this alliance is worth forming.”

Midna grips the arm of the chair, her fingernails digging into the cloth. “You’re joking, please tell me you’re joking.”

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this, my queen.”

Midna groans, throwing her head back. “But then that means that despite the difficult decision _we_ made, they may not even want to form this alliance?”

“Yes.”

“But—do they not care about the benefits this would give both of our realms?”

“Honestly, my queen—they don’t entirely care how it’d benefit them. They don’t trust us. They are outright saying they refuse to tolerate our kind.”

“Are they saying why?”

There’s a horrible pause. She can hear Zant’s grimace. “Something about how, if we were banished to another realm, it was for a good reason and we should stay there.”

“That was eons ago!”

“They don’t care.”

Midna collapses into her chair again, she can feel herself deflate. “ _Moda magnus_ ,” she mutters.

“So, the meeting’s not happening today,” Zant tells her.

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

“They’re not sure when exactly it is going to happen, if ever—but I was told we should stay here until they know for sure. So we can’t go back to the Twilight Realm.”

“Can we protest against their protest?” Midna asks.

“...I think we’re allowed to be offended?”

She sighs. “Well...At least now I have more time today,” she says. It’s only ten in the morning. She had already told Zant what she planned on doing this morning—but right now, she doesn’t really care much about anything. She’s finally gotten back to Hyrule, her people finally have a chance to greatly improve life—and Hyrule doesn’t want them.

“Do you plan on going back into town today?” Zant asks.

“Definitely,” Midna says. She wants to see Lana again—especially because they barely spoke to each other really before. “Are you going back into town?” After learning he had been Castle Town, Midna had asked him about it—Zant had admitted he went out with Ghirahim...And that Ghirahim had been mistaken for a woman three times in a row and had been getting progressively more angry when they found Lana.

“No, I don’t think so, my queen.”

Midna nods and stands. “I might as well just leave early then, since I don’t have to worry about preparing for another meeting with the king of Hyrule. _Akoni_ , I can’t stand them!”

“I can’t either,” Zant says. “Maybe that’s normal for alliances—you can’t stand the other but they have something you want, so you swallow your pride and tolerate their presence to get that thing.”

“That sounds like hell,” Midna responds. She runs a hand through her hair—she’s wearing it only slightly differently, in a high ponytail that sends most of it falling down her back, bright red against the black and glowing teal of her cloak. She really hoped if she ever had to form another alliance ever again, it wasn’t like this—because her people were in danger and she had to.

“Midna—I am convinced that this _is_ hell. You didn’t bring me back at all, I’m still in the afterlife, and all the gods abandoned me.” Midna snorts. “And in hell, we work together in a fruitless attempt to benefit life and it’s not working—possibly, because we’re dead if we’re in hell.”

“So, I’m there too?”

“Maybe,” Zant responds. “Or you’re a copy meant to irritate me.”

Midna grins. “I irritate you?”

“Oh, _nemquamara_!” Zant responded. “The exact opposite, I adore you’re every _action_ , my queen. Why else would I serve as your advisor?”

Midna rolls her eyes—Zant’s a total dick, but it’s not like she isn’t. “I’m going out. Tell me if the castle catches fire again!”

“We’re in hell, of course it will.”

Lana rubs her arm as she walks—she knows where Agitha is, she got directions from her, but everyone in Castle Town is buzzing, and there’s even more people than there was the day before. Where these people came from, Lana doesn’t know.

At least the weather’s nice. Lana sighs and keeps walking, the tome she always has with her still on her—because every time she walks by a large group, she reaches for it, just in case. It’s become a habit. She doesn’t even feel threatened, really, it’s just that when ever there’s even a remote chance there could be a threat, her fingers wrap around the spine and a voice reminds her to aim for the torso—it’s a larger target with a larger likelihood of getting her attacker to stop. Briefly, she wonders if that’s healthy.

Agitha’s home is cozy, well lit. She smiles brightly at Lana and gets excited all over again—even though she’s an adult now, there’s a child’s innocence glittering in her eyes, and it doesn’t matter that they’re the same height—she might as well be skipping across the battlefield wearing pigtails and chasing after butterflies and insects. Lana wonders if it’s normal to feel nostalgia for a time that was so horrible.

But then she realizes that it honestly doesn’t matter. “So, is Midna really coming?” Agitha asks, but it’s a chirp. She seems excited by the thought of them both being here. “I assumed she was busy...”

Lana shrugs. “She said she would be here,” she responds, but she knows she’s going to come. And it makes her stomach twist—thinking about seeing her again. It’s probably weird, but... In her uncursed form, Midna’s gorgeous. She’s not sure if that means she’s attracted to Midna or if she’s subjectively attractive. ...Or maybe it’s objectively attractive...?

Doesn’t matter. Agitha sits her down with a cup of tea and pours the amount of sugar and milk Lana expected her to put in her tea. “So, what’s new?” Agitha chirps. She might be a bird.

Lana shrugs. “I haven’t done a whole lot, believe it or not—I’m much more interested in you, Agitha—a lot more time has passed for you then when we last saw each other.”

“Yes,” Agitha agrees. “Which is why I want to know what you’ve been up to. You seemed awfully sad over...” She frowns. “...I don’t think I ever learned her name, or, if I did, I forgot it. ...I faintly remember Midna calling her a bitch.” She looks down and fiddles with her gloved hands. “...I don’t remember a lot of what happened. I’m surprised I even knew what Midna would look like. I’m surprised Link recognized me.”

“That’s understandable,” Lana sighs. “It was a very long time ago, Agitha.”

“Not _that_ long,” Agitha says. “I’m not old, Lana.”

“I didn’t mean that!”

There’s a knock on the door. Agitha rushes to her feet happily. “That must be Midna!” She walks to the door and squeals happily when she sees Midna.

“I’m not late, am I?” Midna asks. Agitha flaps her hands excitedly and pulls Midna in, closing the door behind her.

“No, you’re not!” Within minutes, Agitha manages to push Midna into a seat beside Lana and a cup of tea in her hands before sitting across from them, looking very pleased. “It’s so nice to see the both of you! Honestly, I kind of thought once the war was over, I wouldn’t see either of you every again and I was kinda sad.”

“We’re happy to see you too, Agitha,” Lana says, gently.

“Yeah, totally, kid,” Midna says. It sounds sarcastic, but Lana doesn’t think she meant it as sarcastic as it sounds. “It’s great seeing you.” She glances at Lana, but then turns her gaze to Agitha.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Midna,” Lana asks. “How did you manage to get to Hyrule?”

Midna fixes her skirt. “Honestly, I’m not completely sure—we were growing desperate and we needed to do something. People were praying, I was trying to do my research. Zant just thinks my powers are much stronger than we all initially thought, I honestly think it was just some sort of miracle.”

“What do you mean?” Agitha asks.

“I mean...The Mirror of Twilight is kind of like a tunnel. You _luxers_ built a tunnel, forced my ancestors through it and then closed it off. My getting to the Light Realm was like...forcing my way back through some hole in the barrier keeping us there. I could be out, but it wasn’t like we could get the entire kingdom out. Partially because they were, you know, shadow monsters with no free will, but my destroying the Mirror of Twilight was just, destroying any chance of anyone ever being able to enter or exit the Twilight Realm. I knocked the tunnel off the map, and the tunnel was gone like it never existed. So, my theory is it just popped back into existence.”

“Why did you destroy it in the first place?” Lana asks.

Midna sips her tea. “Many reasons, anyway—Agitha, what have you been up to?”

She shrugs. “Not much, I’m afraid. One of my neighbors died a year or two ago, so recently, I’ve just been...living. It’s been very uneventful, except for the war, but I didn’t get involved this time around. ...It was very strange, knowing exactly what was happening and doing nothing because I was...technically already involved?”

“Yeah,” Midna agrees. “Time travel’s a mindfuck. Like, one year ago, Zant and I were on opposite sides of a war and he was a traitor to my kingdom, but also, we were peacefully debating the best course of action for our people and he had totally regained my trust and I had no way of being able to be anywhere near you guys.”

“Yeah,” Lana says. “It’s much more different for me.”

“Yeah, but aren’t you like super old or something?” Midna asks. “Like, lived through all of time or some shit?” Midna grins at her—almost impishly. Lana’s certain she’s blushing. “Weren’t you alive back then?”

Lana shrugs. “It honestly doesn’t feel nearly that long...It also, somehow feels longer than that. Time gets weird—like, all that time I spent, whole with Cia, isolated from all of society in the forest—could have been just a handful of years. Maybe a decade, at most. ...We...I...She? Lost track of time.”

“That just sounds sad,” Agitha says.

“It’s not sad—that was just...how it was.” She suddenly feels like Midna and Agitha’s making eye contact with her is staring and it feels weird. “But things aren’t like that anymore. It’s more like I actually exist here. ...And I’m not alone in the middle of the woods.”

Agitha raises an eyebrow. “And you’re happy, right?”

“Of course I am,” Lana responds. She grips her cup a bit tighter. “I mean, yeah, I fought in a war...And then watched Cia die. ...And then the war wasn’t actually over and I had to fight again. ...And then I had to fight in another one and all of Hyrule seemed to turn on me overnight.” She lifts the cup back to her lips and drains it because she doesn’t trust herself to say anything that makes her seem like a normal person and not whatever term could be used for this.

“Well, that sure sounds convincing!” Midna exclaims.

“How’s the whole alliance thing going?” Lana asks.

“It’s some bullshit,” Midna responds. Lana notices this entire conversation has been dodging topics and changing the subject. “Apparently, you Hyruleans are protesting against us and we’re in the Twilight Realm for a reason. I’m still beyond angry about it, decisions are still being made.” She drops a single sugar cube into her tea. “How long are you gonna be here, Lana?”

“I’m not sure. How long are you gonna be in Hyrule?”

“No idea.”

“The two of you are very bad at making conversation!” Agitha chirps. “I assumed the two of you would be happy to see each other after all this time. I guess I thought conversations would be easy, the two of you got along really well before.” They really had—well, after Lana and Agitha managed to beat Midna up to get her to stop attacking their forces and explained they weren’t allied with Cia. ...And then, it had been revealed Lana was a part of Cia, and the whole ‘not being allied’ thing with Cia didn’t sound super truthful, and definitely not when Lana held her in her arms while she took her last breaths. ...Usually, someone dying in your arms implies a bit more than an alliance—such as being half of that person.

It’s weird. Lana had assumed that, as time went on, things would get less complicated. She still doesn’t understand half of what happened.

There’s a weird silence. No one seems to know what to say. Agitha traces the rim of her cup with her finger. “Hey, Lana...I heard some people saying things the other day...”

“People say stuff,” Lana says—it’s more dismissive than she means. This entire, horrible conversation has been exhausting.

“They said they thought the ‘blue haired sorceress’ in Castle Town was dabbling in necromancy.”

Midna pauses and looks at Lana, and for a long, terrible moment, she feels horribly bare. Like Midna is seeing way, way, way too much of her and understanding it when Lana herself doesn’t understand. “Necromancy? You mean like—“

“It’s not true,” she says. “At least, not really.”

“...It sounded pretty true,” Agitha says, quietly. “...And kind of scary.”

“It’s just magic,” Lana responds.

“Magic is a lot. And...it doesn’t sound like you.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just another type of magic, but...It’s a type of magic I know nothing about. Well... I heal injuries and stuff, but I can’t raise the dead.”

“So, it’s like...” Agitha pauses, pouring herself another cup—and Lana, when she notices how empty her’s is. “A more powerful type of magic?”

“More like the same magic, used in a very different way.” She could go into the details of it, she muses over it for a moment—necromancy is a very, very long, drawn out process that requires a sacrifice of some sort. Necromancers across the ages had sacrificed limbs, their own sanity, their humanity, memories, their powers, their own lives—sometimes, other people’s lives. It always depended, on the person doing the necromancing and who they were trying to necromance. Necromancy involved the same magic Lana could use—but more time, more energy than she could really give, and she wasn’t willing to sacrifice anything.

Even for Cia. She couldn’t afford to lose her sanity—she’d just end up like Cia. And people you necromanced didn’t always come back all right. Death was traumatizing. Long standing traumas changed people. ...There was also the chance that Cia would come back from death just as she had been living right before her death and... That wasnt’ a chance Lana could really take. She couldn’t stop Cia the first time by herself, even with other people’s help it had taken forever—trying a second time would just be stupid.

But she chooses not to say any of this—if she says this aloud, it’ll be obvious she was considering it. Not really considering, ‘considering’ makes it sound like she’s thought about what she would do and how she would do, she’s more of...entertained the thought of it.

Agitha pushes the cup back into her hands and smiles at her—Lana wonders, briefly, horribly, if Agitha and Midna would look at her the same if they knew about half the things in her head.

When Zant returns to his chambers, Ghirahim’s sitting on his bed, twirling a dagger in his fingers and humming cheerily. “You do know how to keep me waiting,” he says when Zant shuts the door behind him.

“It wasn’t that long,” he responds.

Ghirahim’s still humming. When Zant takes a step forward, there’s a snap and Ghirahim’s dagger disappears in a flurry of diamonds. “You looked exactly the same,” he says. “When I saw you finally. ...I wasn’t expecting that.”

Zant wishes he could say Ghirahim had looked the same, but honestly, anything was better than in pieces. It didn’t matter because Ghirahim was alive and there and he was seeing him. “I wasn’t even expecting to see you again,” he admits.

Ghirahim gasps, offended, a teasing tone on his thin, white lips and snake-like tongue. “You have such little faith in me. Like you could get rid of me that easily.” For a moment though, his eyes darken and there’s obviously something wrong.

“Ghirahim, are you well?”

He blinks and then moves some hair out of his eyes. “Fine.” Another blink and he does look fine, like it never even happened at all. “So, what have you been doing for your twelve _cinnium_ , darling?” He doesn’t remember Ghirahim calling him ‘darling’ before. It sounds almost sarcastic, but Zant doesn’t think he’s very good at understanding others’ tone of voice anyway, so he doesn’t mention it.

“Serving Midna as her advisor,” he responds. “And you?”

“Oh, that’s far too depressing, I doubt you want to hear about all that.”

“I sincerely doubt you want to hear about how I’ve spent my twelve cinnium. I’ll bore you to death.”

Ghirahim shrugs. “There’s already a strong possibility I am dying. I’d love to hear you tell me everything.”

Zant inhales deeply, trying to force his thoughts into words he can say. He basically has to translate it from Twili into Hyrulean, so it takes a moment. “...I remember it being dark. And it surprised me because the last thing I could remember was the desert, hellishly warm, harshly bright. ...And I remember feeling like I wasn’t breathing, like there was a large weight on my chest that stilled my _corde_ and I thought I was dead and then I heard... something before everything just... disappeared. And when everything reappeared, I was alive and breathing like I had been the entire time. And Midna was there and it was as awkward as you’d think the conversation could be.”

“So, she brought you back?” Ghirahim asks.

“Yes. ...And after awhile, things were almost normal.”

Ghirahim nods. “And are you going to clarify what a _corde_ is, or should I just guess?”

“It’s basically a Twili heart that pumps a different color of blood, that we call _sanguis*_.” Ghirahim nods again, but this time like he understands. “When I was brought back, I basically got a second one, because Midna totally ruined about half of my internal organs in my chest.”

“Does your heart not work properly anymore?”

“It does fine—so long as I don’t do any strenuous activity.”

Ghirahim frowns. “But you still have your scimitars.”

“Knifing people isn’t strenuous.”

“...I think we have two very different definitions of ‘strenuous,’ darling.”

Outside, the sun is beginning to set—how long has Midna been gone? Zant supposes she can take care of herself, but she’s been gone for awhile. Should he be concerned? “Why do you keep calling me ‘darling?’”

Ghirahim blinks. “...Did...” The entire room is quiet. Zant immediately regrets bringing it up. “...Did I not call you ‘darling’ before...?”

“Ghirahim, you called me a lot of things, but...No, not ‘darling.’” Ghirahim avoids eye contact. “I understand it’s a term of endearment, I don’t mind being called ‘darling,’ I was just confused.”

Ghirahim crosses his arms over his chest—his hair covers one of his eyes, like a white curtain. Zant gets the feeling he really shouldn’t have said anything. “...What did I call you?”

For about two hours, Midna talks with Agitha and Lana. When she leaves, Lana leaves with her and both of them promise to speak to Agitha again.

As they walk away from Agitha’s home, Midna finds herself trying to think of something to say. “...Lana, is everything okay?” She asks.

Lana rubs at her arm. “I don’t really know anymore.” It’s concerning. How do you comfort someone you haven’t seen in so long?

Midna tries to think. “Do you have any other plans for today?” Castle Town is quieter than usual, but not by much. A few people are looking at Midna, but she doesn’t care. A handful of men (and one woman hiding behind a book) are staring at Lana.

“No, not really.”

“Any chance you wanna _bi_ —“ She stops. Lana doesn’t speak Twili, what’s the Hyrulean equivalent for it? “...drink and bitch about life?” She thinks that’s what she meant to say.

“Oh.” Lana blushes the slightest bit—it’s a little weird, to see a pink tint to her pale face when she’s dressed almost entirely in blue, with blue hair and even blue undertones in her violet eyes. “I...I’d love to, but I don’t have much money right now. I’m mostly spending it on my room at the local inn.”

“No problem, I’ll buy.” Midna looks at her—and she’s still blushing. It’s kind of cute, she thinks. In case Midna’s beating little bisexual heart didn’t make it obvious enough, she’s got a crush on Lana. She’s beginning to think it’s worse than she initially thought.

“Oh, wow, Midna, that’s nice of you, but I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not,” she responds. “I’m telling you I’m more than willing. ...Assuming you’re okay with it, if you don’t want to, I mean...” Usually, it’s not something she worries about. In her realm, people don’t usually reject the Twilight Queen for much of anything, but she isn’t in her realm, and Lana’s not just some subject. They’re friends.

She thinks they’re friends. Usually, she’s more sure of herself, but around Lana, she isn’t sure of much of anything. It always feels like Lana’s holding her breath, keeping quiet over something Midna doesn’t know, and it makes her weirdly curious.

“Well...” She smiles, almost shyly and her bi heart skips a beat. “It would be nice, talking to you, just one on one.” Midna’s face feels warm. “There’s one near the inn I’m staying at.”

“Lead the way,” Midna says.

The fact that Midna’s feelings here are illegal only slightly dampens her mood—she can get away with slightly more, is the good thing. If Zant and Ghirahim were out in Castle Town, everyone would probably know from looking at them that they were breaking the law (Midna had never met a more flamboyant gay man than Ghirahim, though maybe that spoke more to Midna’s lack of friends and a social life than Ghirahim’s personality or sexual orientation) but apparently, it was more normal for girls to be this close, it wasn’t so obvious that Midna had a crush. No one seemed to think there was anything queer about them as they walked by.

Midna stops when she saw the bar. “Oh, weird.”

Lana looks at her. “What’s weird.”

“I just had the strangest sense of deja vu.” She looks around—yep. This is the bar she remembers from Castle Town.

Lana sucks in a breath. “Right. You nearly...died.” Midna nodded. “Right. ...Are you...”

“It’s totally fine, just...weird.” She clears her throat and walks behind Lana, her ponytail bobbing.

The bar is slightly darker than outside—which, actually, is better for Midna’s eyes, used to the half light of the Twilight Realm. An elderly woman stands behind the counter, humming an old song while she wipes off a glass with a rag. She nods as they walk in, acknowledging their presence. In seconds, they’re both holding glasses. First tea, then ale—Midna doesn’t even think she _likes_ ale.

But Lana lets her pry. “Things have been weird is all,” she says, simply.

“Weird, how?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve never been...” She sighs, looking into the glass. “...like this, I guess. It’s weird. Like I remember everything from before, before Cia went crazy and waged war on everyone, when we were the same, but...I don’t know, it feels different. Like, yeah, I remember it, but it wasn’t me—and if it was me, then this isn’t me and I’ll never be me again because Cia’s dead.” She runs a hand through her hair. “And I...I tried so hard to stop her, Midna. I thought, if I tried to stop her, she would eventually come around! Eventually, she’d realize like me that it was hopeless, you know? And she’d stop.” There’s something horribly said in her viscously bright eyes and the contrast is what’s weird.

“I didn’t think she was that far gone,” Lana whispers. “I thought she was still savable. But she...wasn’t. Whatever Ganondorf did to her, or maybe it was just that I wasn’t there...” She crosses her arms, but it looks more like she’s hugging herself than anything. “...I don’t know, but I think she was doomed from the start. She wasn’t even herself—just a crazy, scantily clad witch on a path for self-destruction.” She laughs weakly. “I doubt that gave you a great impression of me.”

Her heart leaps into her throat and before Midna can stop herself she grabs Lana’s hand and squeezes. It’s cold in her’s, but they’re about the same size. If she was still in her imp form, this would be embarrassing. “Lana, that didn’t give me any impression about you. You gave me my impression of you and...” She swallows, flushes and pulls her hand away.

Lana smiles. “What was the impression I left you with?”

“The one I got the first time we met,” Midna says simply. “And it was right, I’m positive. You were strong and brave and determined. ...And you were with the witch, just in a very different way than what I thought.”

Lana laughs—it’s a wonderful sound.

“And you were kind,” Midna says. “I mean, you did beat me half-way unconscious with a stick, but that was just because I was attacking you and your forces. ...I think. But you helped me up afterwards. And I liked fighting beside you.”

Somehow, in the dim light, Lana’s hair is brighter—like her entire head is radiating light and it’s beautiful. “Not gonna lie,” she says, quietly. “If you were a guy or homosexuality was legal around here, this would be pretty romantic.”

“I think it’s pretty romantic,” Midna grins.

“It would be if this wasn’t some sort of crime.” Lana tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “...Walk me back to the inn?” The inn was three buildings over. Midna nods and without a word, she slaps a rupee down (a purple one, she doesn’t know if that covers a tip or what but she thinks it’s enough) and Lana grabs her hand and tugs her outside.

The area is entirely devoid of people, a total ghost town. No one is around. Midna only has eyes for Lana, batting her eyelashes as the world around goes still. “I’m...” Midna’s mouth feels dry. She’s never been good at these types of things. “I’m really glad I got to see you, Lana.”

“I am too,” she says. Midna leans forward. She can feel Lana’s breath on her lips—when it suddenly hitches and Lana takes a step back. “Wait,” she says and Midna stops. “...I don’t think this is right.”

“Because it’s illegal?”

“No, it’s just...” Lana flushes. “I’ve only like, had feelings like this for two other people before, and one of them was Link and the other was...” Her face is bright red. “...somehow even more embarrassing and none of it makes any sense, but I just...” Midna grabs her hands and Lana squeezes. “...I really don’t want to mess this up.”

“I don’t think you will,” Midna says. “I’m more worried I will. I mean, I totally destroyed the Mirror of Twilight and that really should have come back to bite me in the ass, and I never saw Link again—at least, not that one.”

“Yeah,” Lana says. “But I mean, last time I felt like this for someone, there was an entire war going on and I only really liked him because he was just something I was clinging onto to escape how totally lonely I was, and Cia literally went insane, and I don’t want to turn evil, wage a war, kill people and totally freak you out.”

It’s not like Midna’s a _not-bold_ type of person, but even this gets her by surprise. “Then let me make sure you don’t get lonely.”

She leans forward. Lana softens and doesn’t take a step back, grabbing her hands. When their lips meet, Lana’s are warm, soft. It’s gentle and short and absolutely perfect. Lana flushes red and takes a step back, letting go of Midna’s hand. Midna feels absolutely giddy, but Lana looks giddy herself. “Oh, wow, ha...” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear again. “That was...”

“I should get going, before Zant wonders where I am.”

“Yeah...” Lana’s smiling and it makes her heart soar. “You should. ...Can I see you tomorrow?” She cocks her head. “So I don’t get lonely?” Her smile isn’t just beautiful, heart stopping, and glowing—it’s teasing...As well as the other things.

“Yes,” she responds without thinking. She will carve out the time. “...I might be busy during the day, but maybe the evening.”

Midna’s pulse skips. “I’ll be at the inn, I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I’ll see you then.”

He’s flipping through a book and not reading when Midna rolls in. She stops in the doorway. “...Please tell me you aren’t possessed again,” she says, and Zant doesn’t care, that joke stopped being funny a while ago.

“I’m not.”

Midna nods. “Sorry I was gone for so long. I was with Lana.”

“How’d it go?” He looks up—Midna’s blush and smile is enough to know his answer.

“It went good,” Midna says, clearing her throat and her blush slowly fades. “...What about you?”

“It’s very difficult to find things to talk about when you’ve been separated for twelve _cinnium_ plus, so instead Ghirahim and I fought.”

Midna looks alarmed, like this is surprising, but Zant supposes it isn’t. The two of them bickered even before—but back then, their relationship had been easy. Not easy to understand, but it was casual, nice. He cared a lot about Ghirahim, but there was never this need to show how much the other meant to them. ...Those twelve _cinnium_ he spent, wishing he had told Ghirahim. “About what?” Midna asks.

“He forgot most things about me,” Zant answers. “...And somehow that made him angry. And I didn’t know how to respond. So we argued and he just kind of...disappeared.” He sighs. “I don’t have the energy for _corelationes*_ anyway.”

It sounds pathetic coming from him. Midna seems to notice. “I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “Tell me about Lana.”

“She’s super lonely and super gay,” Midna says. “...And we kissed.”

Zant raises an eyebrow. “In public?”

“There was no one around.”

“...But you don’t think kissing someone of the same gender as you is a problem when it’s illegal and is the royal family’s main concern about our alliance.”

“Believe me, I thought about it too,” Midna says. “But I don’t know, I couldn’t just like...not kiss her, Zant! I...really care about her, and it was so nice seeing her and...It was nice.”

“I think you’re just a _lac filioer*_ for a pretty face.”

Midna looked like she wanted to deny it. “...She’s really pretty!”

“You’re really _queer*_.”

Midna sighs and sits down, shoulders slumping. “And you’re not or something?”

“I never said that.” He didn’t think he could say that. Briefly, he wonders if the _Rabon*_ were right, and if this is hell after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moda magnus: Twili, accurately translates to “holy shit”
> 
> Nemqumara: Roughly translates to “never now.” It is used when the word being used has the same meaning as “never” but when the person saying it is being incredibly sarcastic, hence the “now” part.
> 
> Sanguis: Twili blood—usually a teal or blue-ish color, though it isn’t clear why it’s such a different color from most Hylians. It tends to make most Twili’s blushes look teal/blue, when Hylians look pink or red.
> 
> Corelationes: A relationship with deep meaning to one, common in Twili culture where community is an important value among most, but corelationes is specifically the more romantic and amorous variety.
> 
> Lac filioer: slang for “sucker” or “fool.” Not a compliment.
> 
> Queer: In general, considered a Twili word, but it’s also used in Hyrule and means exactly the same thing. Usually used as an umbrella term for multiple seperate terms for multiple gender identities or sexual orientations.
> 
> Rabon: A small number of Twili at the beginning of the Twilight Realm’s history. These were actually Twili that worshiped the Light Realm’s goddesses and rejected the Twilight Realms—they believed the Twili were banished for their own faults, as many Twili agreed, but they believed the only way to make up for their sin was to reject change and pray to the goddesses. They believed in ideals that are still heavily mocked in the Twilight Realm, and thought everyone who worshipped the Twilight’s deities were automatically evil and unredeemable. It is not uncommon for past criminals or felons to follow these teachings in an attempt to repent, be they well-meaning or not, but the teachings tend to be so critical of everything and usually try to imply that even it’s followers are terrible people and must regret their very existence—so that, when it ends, they’ll be granted eternal peace by the goddesses despite their sins. All in all, it’s basically a religion that hates itself and any like it. Many find peace in it’s grizzly teachings—which usually imply that, with minor exceptions, all are destined to rot in some sort of hell.


	6. Chapter 6

Impa stares at the door for a minute—she isn’t sure if she really needs to check up on Princess Zelda, but it is her job right now and she does care a lot for her. She wants to make sure she’s okay.

She knocks on the door quietly. “Your highness?” She calls through it, and there’s some shuffling, pages fluttering. “Are you alright?” All she gets in return in silence—and she briefly worries. “Princess Zelda, may I come in?”

“Yes,” she calls out and her worry almost totally evaporates. “You may.”

The door swings open—as always, Impa steps in and closes it behind her, but for a minute, she stands, her back against it. Princess Zelda’s back is to her, she’s facing a desk. She has a study separate from her bedroom, but Impa gets the feeling she doesn’t want to traverse the halls right now. She’s furiously flipping through a book, not even glancing at Impa.

“...Princess Zelda, are you well?” She asks.

She sighs and her shoulders slump. “No,” she sighs. “I’m not.”

“I understand the meeting was a great deal of stress for you—“

Zelda interrupts, but her voice is soft. “That’s not it.”

There’s a beat of silence and Impa takes a step forward, closer to her. “Then, my lady, do you want to tell what’s bothering you? I would like to help you, if you would only allow me to.”

Zelda waits—but there is little to nothing that she cannot tell Impa. Impa knows this—she would carry every secret Zelda shares with her to her grave. “I was in the attic earlier today.”

Impa sighs—the castle’s attic was a large, sprawling, very dusty space that mostly contained old relics from the past, hidden portraits, all sorts of secrets that weren’t supposed to see the light of day. Really, only the Hyrulean royal family was allowed up there, and most tended to not go in there. Actually, due to the vast amount of spiders and the mysterious nature of half of the objects, most nobles stayed far, far away from that part of the castle. “I’m afraid to ask what you found.”

Zelda shows a small, leather bound journal. It looks old, but the dust on it has been disturbed and it’s adorned with small details that hint to who it’s owner was. “Ah,” Impa says.

“...My mother wrote some disturbing things.”

“Yes,” Impa sighs. “She was not a perfect woman or queen.”

“Was she a good woman or queen?”

“I imagine it difficult to be both,” Impa admits. “The Sheikiah have a different definition for what makes a good person, and those tend to differ from most other cultures’.”

“And what traits should a good person have, according to the Sheikiah?”

“Usually, good people have very little authority, and tend to stray away from violence.” Impa sighs, running a hand through her hair. “We’re taught methods of combat more as a way to defend ourselves and others, from back when we only served the goddesses. These days, there’s so few of us, our methods of serving the goddesses have changed. Good people are humble and search for modesty in their lives—modest with their belongings and their titles...”

Zelda frowns. “So, are you not a good person?”

“More or less,” Impa responds. “Much of what I was taught was tradition, and at some point, traditions do become outdated. I, personally, believe there are no good people in this world, just as there is no bad people. I believe people are more complicated than that.”

Zelda sighs. “Is it true my mother was directly responsible for the deaths of the young women, and made homosexuality illegal in their memory?”

“I believe she was terribly misguided.”

“Misguided?”

Impa nods. “Yes. She was...” _She was so far deep in a toxic upbringing that’s begun years and years before she was ever even before. She was drowning in sorrows of her own and carried her entire kingdom on her shoulders—she could not have been helped, I fear, and she could not help the results of her upbringing. She was shaped like that by rulers before her, and her actions have shaped you and this kingdom out._ But Impa can’t say any of this.

Zelda looks at her. “...She was what, Impa?”

She had been too far gone. Had Impa been able to help, she would have—but no one had been able to help her. “...Misguided.”

Zelda sighs, looking defeated. “You do that often, you know.”

“I apologize, Princess—Despite how close I feel to you...Well, it makes it easy to forget that this is my job, and that we are not equals.”

“I’d prefer being equals to this,” Zelda sighs. “It’s...frustrating for you to begin a thought and then replace the word you were going to say with one you don’t mean.”

“I know, my lady, I’m sorry.”

There’s a beat of silence. “...Impa, I fear there’s something wrong with me.”

“Princess Zelda,” Impa begun. “You have nothing to fear, because I know that there is nothing wrong with you.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “...But I still...”

“My lady, if there is anything you want to say to me, you can say it. You know I would never betray your trust.”

“...I thought...” She isn’t meeting Impa’s eyes. “I thought I loved Link...I thought things were making sense and that everything was fine—but it was nothing more than a basic connection. It was purely platonic! And...I just...I feel nothing for any man I’ve met. Is that normal?”

“Some just don’t find an interest in men,” Impa responds. “There’s no shame in it. I personally have never felt any desire to form a relationship like that with a man.”

“You mean you’re...?” Zelda trails off, tone uneasy.

“No. I simply have never felt any desire for it, or for a woman, and I’m uncertain if that’s because I just don’t have that, or if I’ve merely chosen that I have no interest in it. Either way.”

“...I can’t stop thinking about the girl I met in Castle Town the other day,” Zelda confesses. “...She was nice to me.”

Impa nods. “That’s good. You made a friend.”

“A friend I’ve met once in my entire life.”

“...I would never allow you to go out by yourself, Princess,” Impa says. “Since I worry something could happen, and I would never forgive myself if harm were to befall you on account of my own fault. ...That said, I wouldn’t be against accompanying you out to Castle Town, if you really wish to see—what was her name again?”

“Marin,” Zelda says.

“Right. If you really wish to see Marin again, one of these days, I will accompany you to Castle Town.”

The way Zelda’s eyes brightened meant she said the right thing. “Really, Impa?”

“Yes, really, your highness. I understand that it can be difficult to have any sort of social life—I’m more than happy to help you befriend a pretty stranger.” It’s nice seeing Zelda smile, when she’s spent so much time so stressed. She hasn’t had many reasons to smile as of late—and it’s heartbreaking to see someone she cares about so upset so often. At least when Zelda was a child, she had seemed significantly less stressed, though even then, it had still been an amount. A much higher amount than most children.

“Thank you, Impa.” Zelda clears her throat but the small amount of joy in her eyes offsets how she’s clearly trying to be regal. “I... I really appreciate it. But we don’t have to tell my father about this, do we?”

“Well, I’m not supposed to keep things secret from him—but I serve you before I serve him, so if you don’t wish for me to.”

The look in Zelda’s eyes are soft. “Thank you, Impa. I really cannot thank you enough, I...I don’t know what it is but...”

“All it is is you haven’t gotten a chance to be a teenager,” Impa says, simply. “And you’re still only nineteen. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be friends with someone.” She is starting to get the feeling that maybe Zelda’s feelings for this stranger aren’t really as platonic as the princess likely thinks, but in Impa’s opinion, there’s nothing wrong with her wanting to be more than friends with this person—so long as this person isn’t an assassin trying to earn the princess’ trust so they’ll be able to cut her throat.

Zelda’s smiling. “You should retire soon, Princess Zelda,” she says. “If this is all you require for the night, I can leave.”

“Well, I’m too old for a bedtime story,” Princess Zelda says. “So I suppose I don’t require anything.”

Impa smiles herself. “If that’s all then—good night, my lady.”

He cannot sleep—there is too much on his mind.

He supposes it makes sense—these past few days had been stressful. But it’s only Ghirahim on his mind.

How did things get like this between them? Zant doesn’t know how to talk to him anymore. ...And it’s not like it’s particularly surprising that Ghirahim has forgotten about him—what with all the time in between their two respective times... And it still somehow hurts, knowing Ghirahim doesn’t remember as much as he remembered him. But he hasn’t completely forgot about him, at least.

It’s cold comfort, actually.

He tries to think—what can he remember specifically about Ghirahim? All that comes to mind is searing sunlight, and Ghirahim’s gloved hands moving his white hair out of his dark eyes, and hurried kisses that were just as much teeth and tongue as lips. He remembers how deathly pale Ghirahim was and still is, remembers the calm evenings they had spent together...

How much of that does Ghirahim remember? He would have had centuries to forget, but considering it was a war, was that something anyone could just forget?

Well, Zant supposes he doesn’t know a whole lot of people who are effectively immortal, though he does suppose the majority of people he knows has fought in a war.

But the one thing that’s really bothering him is how Ghirahim managed to be so totally obliterated. He still knows Ghirahim—and Ghirahim wouldn’t have gone down without a fight against anyone who tried to hurt him, but...

Nothing quite makes sense.

The good news is the next day goes way more smoothly than either Midna or Zant or Zelda could predict. The meeting is postponed for an hour, before Zelda convinces her father that she’s supposed to be the one handling affairs with other governments, so this decision is supposed to fall to her—and she decides that the alliance is largely beneficial to both of their kingdoms and has more pros than cons.

Midna and Zant manage to keep up appearances, but the moment they’re alone they both voice how relieved they are.

“ _Gratias ago, Akoni_ ,” Midna breathes. “I thought that was going to go so much worse.”

Zant nods, exasperated, in agreement. “But did you see how the king was looking at you? Like you had personally spat on the grave of every single one of his relatives.”

Midna snorts and flick some hair out of her face—she’s wearing it slightly different today. “Like I would want to go near any of his relatives, even if they’re in the ground.”

Zant looks like he’s going to point out that they’d just spent thirty minutes talking to one of his closest relatives, or that Midna had been kind of close with the woman who was going to become his wife, but instead, he nods in agreement. “Pay someone else to.”

Midna leans back and stretches her arms over her head. She’s also noticeably dressed differently—a bit more conservatively, actually, which is pretty weird for Midna. Her dress has a high low hemline that shows off her legs but covers more than her usual skirt and the top part has one long sleeve, the other a simple black strap, baring her stomach and she’s wearing high heels. “Are you going to celebrate this accomplishment with Lana?” The plan was to leave tomorrow, to sort out a few things in the Twilight Realm.

Midna blushes the slightest bit. “Should I not?”

Zant seems to realize he doesn’t care all that much. “You shouldn’t get caught doing anything illegal.”

Midna scoffs. “How dare you presume I would get caught doing something illegal? I’m much more stealthy than you.”

“That’s debatable—the important thing to remember is it’s not illegal unless you are caught.” Midna nods, like this is good, legal advice. “But seriously, don’t ruin this small victory because you have a crush on Lana.”

“I won’t.” That would suck—ruining this alliance over something so minor. And, from what she could tell with the law, there was no exceptions. Lana could get killed. Midna could get killed. And if Midna did get killed as a result, then the Twilight Realm would go to war with Hyrule and the Twilight Realm really did not have the resources to go to war. They had the numbers, their soldiers would be strong, but there had never been too much of a reason in their history to actually participate in a war (except with the whole Light Realm thing, but they weren’t repeating that again, oh no).

Midna makes a mental note to be sure she didn’t do anything with Lana that would seem “gross” and “indecent” in public, but regardless, her feeling of victory follows her into Castle Town.

It might be radiating off of her, or maybe it’s written on her face, or maybe it’s one of those things so clear that you could hear it, like a church bell, or a horn, or a bomb explosion.

Either way, the moment she starts to approach the inn, Lana steps out, like she already expects to see Midna. She’s wearing the same outfit she had the day before, but as she turns and locks eyes with Midna, she’s simultaneously tying up her hair into her usual ponytail. Her face brightens when she sees her and she starts walking forward.

“Hey, Lana.” Her hands fall to her side and Lana’s grinning. “You look beautiful.”

Lana eyes her outfit. “I was gonna say the same thing to you.”

“What, ‘hey, Lana?’”

“No, the other thing. That you look beautiful.” Midna can feel the heat rushing to her face. “You also look...very happy. Like you won a bet.”

“I have not won any bets,” Midna says. “But I have won... Well, nothing, I guess, it wasn’t like a competition—but we finally worked things out with the Princess and all. We’re forming an alliance. My people are gonna be okay.”

“Oh, that’s great! ...What about the law, though?”

“Way to ruin my victory, Lana.”

Lana giggles nervously. “Right, sorry.” She’s still smiling though. “What’s the Twilight Realm like?” They start walking, idly, side by side, but Midna doesn’t know where.

“Lana, you’ve been there.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t really have the time to go sight seeing—plus, time has passed, things have changed. ...What’s it like now?”

Midna exhales slowly, trying to think. “...Very crowded,” she says. “But it’s still beautiful. You should see the _sol_ near the palace—the way it glows towards the end of the day, it makes it’s surroundings look like some sort of beautiful daydream.” She sighs—the Twilight Realm was truly something special. “And with how weird time works here, like...Time is really weird here, sunsets are more like how full moons are here. It’s like, once a month, the sky turns _roseaus_ and there’s a reminder of another world we’re bound to.”

Lana nods. “What does ‘ _roseaus_ ’ mean?”

“It’s a color,” Midna answers. “Well, it’s a word we use for all the colors of the sunset. So it’s like, three or four colors or whatever. It’s really pretty. You should totally see it—since we’re like, allied with Hyrule now and the threat of us exhausting all resources is slowly leaving.”

“I’d love to one day.” Nearby, a group of girls are loudly talking about a male prostitute they saw earlier—why they’re talking about it so loud is beyond Midna. “...Hey, Midna?” Lana starts. “...When exactly do you think you’ll be coming back to Hyrule?”

Midna hadn’t really put much thought into it. She isn’t sure why—had she hoped she’ll be able to just bring Lana back with her? That’d make an awkward conversation on the way to the Mirror of Twilight. _Oh, yeah, Zant; Lana’s coming with us! Did I not mention that?_ Not to mention, she literally had a queendom to rule over, and she didn’t really think Lana would get in the way, but Midna had the feeling she would totally get distracted and push Lana into her own way to see her more. Not to mention, she wasn’t sure how Lana—an extremely powerful sorceress, but still a Light Realmer—would react to the Twilight. Sure she had been in there and was just fine, but so had Agitha, and it could have just been a result of some time weirdness going on. Also, Lana could simply not want to go to the Twilight Realm, and given the fact that Midna wasn’t too fond of the Light Realm, she couldn’t really blame Lana for that. Traveling was hard.

“Well...” Her hand twitches. “We’re going to have to come back eventually.” _Eventually_. What the fuck does that mean? Like, _Yeah, Lana, we’ll probably see each other at some point in the future, maybe a few years from now, if we’re lucky_. Maybe a few years was a bit dramatic, but still. “I know I will be coming back, I’m just not sure when. There’s like, a whole process to this, you know.” Lana nods, clearly understanding what Midna’s saying.

But she keeps going. “I’ll make sure I’ll come back. And when I do, one of the first things I will do is seek you out and then we’ll...” She frowns. She doesn’t know what to do with Lana. “Talk about everything that’s happened since I last saw you in the bar.”

“What if you’re gone for too long? Like, months? Or a year?”

“I’ll make you tell me everything that’s happened to you. It can take all day or all night. Even if it takes my entire stay in Hyrule. Even if I have to drag you back to the Twilight with me so you can continue to fill me in. Doesn’t matter.”

“That’s...kind of sweet, Midna.”

“Good. I’m trying to not be a bitch, when I’m a bitch, tragedy strikes to humble me so I can go through this shit called ‘character development’ and let me tell you, Lana—it’s horrible.” Lana laughs—it attracts the attention of a few people who stop to stare for a bit longer than necessary, and Midna gets the feeling she knows why—a strange woman with skin two different colors and long, red hair, somehow, that’s a spectacle around here. ...Or maybe the spectacle comes from her being a queen from another realm, that would make more sense.

Maybe Midna just tries to find a reason to be wary of the Light Realmers sometimes. “I am really glad I got to see you,” Lana says, softly. “Though, if I’m being honest it’s weird being with you when you’re not an imp. I have to look _up_ at you.”

Midna had noticed that she was looking down for awhile—but it hadn’t really clicked that she had been so short the last time she had seen Lana. Actually, something about seeing Lana have to tilt her head up to look at her made her smile. “Too bad you didn’t grow a couple inches.”

Lana rises onto her toes, which briefly makes her look like she’s the same height as her. “...About two and a half inches...Maybe three.” She hums, like she’s thinking. “Wow, you’re tall.”

“Or you’re short.”

“I’m at a very average height,” Lana sighs, almost glum. “Cia took the height with her. ...Or maybe that was her high heels.” She frowns, like she’s really torn between which it could be. Midna almost points out that Lana is wearing heels herself, but then decides not to, though she isn’t sure why. She thinks they count as heels? Ankle high boots with like, an inch of a heel. ...Midna doesn’t know, she doesn’t wear a lot of shoes. Also, it’s not totally clear if she’s sad about Cia or her lack of height, either way, Midna doesn’t ask for clarification.

She doesn’t want to waste time asking questions when she could be enjoying this moment with Lana.

Being back in Castle Town feels a bit more...normal now, with Impa by her side. Before Castle Town had been almost overwhelming, but now, Impa gives her a sense of familiarity. No one really looks at them, just two Sheikiah’s, making their way through.

A child, maybe twelve or thirteen, bumps into her and then takes a step back. “Sorry, mister.” They lean down and pick up a small thing they dropped—a rupee, though she hadn’t really been paying attention to it—and walks away, joining a boy their age near a building before they ran off, giggling like children do.

She blinks and then looks to Impa. “Did that little girl think I was a man?”

“It appears so,” Impa says. They continue walking. “Was there a reason to you bringing your harp with you?”

She almost reaches for it—upon Impa’s assistance, she had brought one of her three kunai with her, though her harp was not needed to use it. “When I saw her, she complimented it.” It’s a bad reason. “Also, this disguise doesn’t feel complete without it.”

“I see,” Impa muses. She brought with her her Giant’s Knife, because it simply would not be Impa if she was not carrying an oversized blade with her. A handful of people stop to look at the white haired woman with a knife bigger than her on her back, but ultimately keep walking and Impa doesn’t really seem to care.

When they reach the inn Zelda is pretty sure is the one Marin had referred to, the door swung open with some convenient timing and a girl with a slight tan, in a blue dress, with red hair stepped out, nearly colliding with her before she steps back, shocked, eyes wide. Slowly, she grins. “Hey there, stranger.”

“Marin, hi.” She glances to her left, where Impa had been, but she’s disappeared. She doesn’t know why, Impa has a tendency to do that, but then she reappears like she had never left. Even though Zelda uses ‘disappear’ in a more figurative sense of the word, sometimes she really wonders if maybe Impa can actually teleport and just hasn’t told her—it seems likely.

“Hello, Sheik.” Somehow, Zelda’s forgotten just how pretty Marin is—she’s gorgeous. “It’s nice to see you, I kept wondering if I was gonna see you again, but it was like you had just vanished from Castle Town without a trace.”

“Yeah, I don’t...” She tries to think of a response, but all that she can think of is I don’t, so she leaves it at that, and after a minute, Marin seems to realize she’s not going to ever finish that sentence and giggles instead.

“But like, seriously, I asked around, mentioned you to a few people and they honestly looked at me like I was speaking in tongues.”

“I come and go...” If Impa’s watching this interaction, Zelda bets she’s cringing behind her hand at her lack of social skills.

“Oh, you brought your harp!” Zelda doesn’t mention she had also polished it a night or two ago.

“Do you want to see it?” She asks.

“Only if you don’t mind,” but Zelda really doesn’t mind so she grabs it and pushes it into Marin’s hands.

“Wow...I’ve never seen a harp this pretty before! Back at home, mine was much more simple...” Zelda knows her harp is pretty—also, really expensive and overly fancy. Gold* and glittering in the light with the triforce etched into it. “How did you even find something like this?”

“Honestly? I’ve no idea, it was a gift.” Marin nods, running a finger over the triforce mark. “I’ve had it since I was very young—I wanted to learn the flute, or the organ, or the trumpet or something, but it’s a tradition.”

“Tradition?”

Zelda nods. “Most girls in my family learn to play the harp.” She remembers asking Impa why when she was younger. “I was told it’s one of the easiest instruments to learn, that way, it was very difficult for anyone in my family to mess up.”

Marin nods. “I taught myself when I was younger, with this one harp I won in this game on the island.”

“You come from an island?”

Marin nods happily. “A village on the island.”

“What island?”

“Koholint,” she responds. She plucks a single string. “Mabe Village, I was raised there for most of my life. And now I’m here.” She hands it back to her. “It’s a lovely harp.”

She had been abut to say that she had ever heard of an island called Koholint, but now she wonders if maybe that’d be rude. Maybe she just needs to brush up on her geography. “Thank you.”

“I was just heading out to find something to do,” Marin says. “But all I really hear about is a bar nearby, but I’m not old enough to drink.”

Zelda frowns. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“...The legal drinking age in Hyrule is eighteen.” Marin looks puzzled. “You should be able to drink legally.”

“Oh.” Marin flushes, her embarrassment visible and tangible. “Sorry, I know absolutely nothing about the laws here.”

“Well, I know the vast majority of the laws here.” Marin smiles at her—she has no idea just what Zelda really knows about the laws here. “I’d...be more than happy to take you out for a drink.”

“I’d love that,” Marin says. “But I don’t have much money on my person.”

“It’s fine, I can pay,” she responds without thinking. “I have plenty of rupees.” She flushes herself this time and stops—is she being rude at all? She wonders if there’s some sort of etiquette she isn’t following. But Marin doesn’t look uncomfortable or bothered at all. Just in case, Zelda adds, “Assuming you’d allow me to.”

“I would love you to, Sheik.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, shyly. “I mean—someone pretty and my age with a gorgeous harp? We have to be friends now.”

She smiles—but she realizes that it must be difficult to notice from beneath her cowl. And then wonders if, when she says ‘pretty’ she means that as referring to a pretty looking boy or if she knows she’s a girl. Before she can think of how to ask, they’re already walking towards the bar. At one point, Zelda does notice Impa following close behind.

But Marin takes most of her attention away. She pulls her cowl up farther and continues a conversation with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sol: Similar to the sun of the Light Realm, the Twilight Realm possesses objects called “Sols” that are the remnants of some of the more powerful types of magic, practiced by earlier Twili, converted into objects scattered across the realm that provide a source of energy, as well a light that isn’t harmful to either Twili or Hylians, though it’s not sure if the Hylians bit is completely true and few have gotten a chance to be close to one.
> 
> Harps: Most sources say that harps are just made out of different types of wood, though strings could possibly be made out of gold. Whether or not Princess Zelda’s/Sheik’s harp is actually made of gold is unclear, it’s one of those things most people don’t get close enough to actually notice. In fact, most people have a tendency to just go, “Oh, what a pretty harp!” Without spending too much time debating what the harp must be made of, but those people tend to not know too much about the harp anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

Midna doesn’t even notice the door to the bar open, too invested in Lana’s and her conversation. Every time Midna says something funny, she throws her head back in a laugh that makes crinkles appear at her eyes, and her nose wrinkle and it’s adorable. She can feel her face warm.

Lana—ever polite—asks how Zant is while taking a sip of her drink.

Midna shrugs. “He’s alive now, in case you haven’t noticed. I think he’s... relatively okay?”

Lana nods. “I still feel bad—about Ghirahim.”

“Oh.” Midna frowns. “He’s alive too.”

“Yeah,” Lana says, but she sighs. “I know, but um...” She pauses. “...I don’t think he’ll last long.”

“...What?”

“Did... they not mention it?” Lana’s expression shows that she thought Midna knew—and whatever this is, it sounds serious.

“Mention what?”

Lana thinks for a minute. “Have you seen him in his true form? The one where his skin turns black and his hair is different and the irises and pupils in his eyes disappear?”

Midna’s quiet for a moment. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Because Ghirahim’s a sword, he has another form, kind of like how Fi looked.” Midna had almost totally forgotten about Fi, and also about Darunia and Ruto. She wonders how they fared in their times, but by now, they’re likely pretty dead. Well, maybe not Fi. “Except black, with white hair, and...Anyway, he’s supposed to have a red gem on his chest, like how Fi had her blue gem on her chest?” Midna nods. So far she’s following. She very faintly remembers what Fi looked like—very blue. Ruto had also been very blue. ...Blue was a popular color, she supposes.

“Well, even though he’s in pieces, he’s somehow able to exist. His gem though is cracked. It has like a bunch of cracks spiderwebbing all over it—but none of it’s missing, except this very, very tiny bit that might be the size of a grain of sand—and somehow, that seems to be enough to do him in.”

Midna blinks. “Zant hasn’t mentioned that.”

“That was what they sought me out for,” Lana says. “Because I was the one who found him. ...I wasn’t able to help them, though. With how small it is, I think the chances of finding it are pretty slim.”

That’s pretty sad. “Well...Maybe it won’t? Kill him, I mean. Maybe it won’t matter.”

Lana shrugs. “I don’t know much about sword spirits. Only two have ever existed in this world, and one of them rests inside the Master Sword, and the other...might die. He didn’t seem to know a lot, but... you didn’t see the look of defeat in his eyes when I had to admit I didn’t know.”

“Wow.” Midna swallows. “I know they got into a fight yesterday.”

“A fight?”

“Yeah. Apparently, Ghirahim predictably remembers very little about Zant, which is to be expected after so long, but I don’t think that was what it was really about.”

“That’s just sad,” Lana says. She frowns and takes a sip of her drink—some weird tasting ale that’s supposed to be popular among Hyruleans.

“So,” Midna asks. “What exactly have you been doing?” Lana smiles shyly and seems to move closer. “I mean, people are seeing you all over Hyrule and you were in the Gerudo desert... What are you up to?”

“It’s... stupid, but... I just want a good look at Hyrule, you know? Something about the war, and...something about the war after _that_ drew something inside me out... Wanderlust, I guess. I just want to travel, and talk to people, and see and do things, I want to go somewhere I don’t know and get hopelessly lost and have to talk to the locals to find my way around, and, I guess just... not lose my mind in the middle of the isolated woods away from people and society as a whole.”

Midna nods. “...I think that’s more reasonable than that is stupid.”

“Maybe.” Lana sighs. “It doesn’t feel very reasonable. I feel like I’m being selfish.”

“...For not wanting to go crazy in the middle of the woods by yourself?”

“It’s expected with the job.”

“I still don’t think it’s selfish.”

“Well, spending over a thousand years in the middle of the woods by yourself really skews...reality.” Midna nods—and notices, in the corner of her eye, a head of white hair. “...Is that Impa?”

Lana looks over at her—Yep. That is Impa, sitting near the back and watching a pair of teenagers talking. Something in her eyes flicker and then Lana turns to Midna. “Yep.”

“...Does she usually go to Castle Town?”

“No,” Lana says. “It’s a bit weird to see her here.”

Midna thinks it’s weird too, but she chooses to not let it bother her that much. Surely, even Hyrule’s general needs a break to go and have a drink every once in a while, who’s Midna to judge? No one—even though she’s judging the hell out of these Hyrulean’s taste in drinks, this ale is disgusting, honestly.*

They talk until Midna needs to leave—and Lana sneaks a kiss on her cheek behind the bar real quick. “I swear to every deity in the Twilight Realm,” Midna says, grasping her hand. “When I come back to Hyrule, I’m going to find you—and I’m going to make you give me a real kiss.”

Lana grins—it’s adorable, and makes her seem that much brighter, like even in broad daylight, Lana can glow brighter than the sun. Midna doesn’t even like the sun, but _Akoni_ , does she like Lana. “I might have to hold you to that, Midna.”

Slowly, Midna steps away and lets go of her hand. “I’ll see you, Lana.” I’ll see you. Something about those words felt wrong in her mouth—because wasn’t that what she had said to the Hero of Twilight? “ _See you later,_ ” always later, even as she stood in front of the cracking mirror, changed forever, totally in love with both of their worlds and all of their differences, but with no intention of ever returning. “ _See you later_.” Like she would return, like she would see Link again.

If Lana died before she returned to this world, she was gonna go apeshit.

“Zant.” He inhales deeply through his nose, and tries to think of something to say. “You can’t just ignore me.” Actually, he totally can.

“Zant.” Ghirahim audibly sighs. “...How did things get like this?”

“It’s been awhile,” Zant says. He’s toneless. “Things have changed.”

Ghirahim drapes himself over the chair and rests an arm over his eyes. “It’s not like I wanted to forget you,” he says. “...I didn’t.”

“You said it yourself last night.” A stab if irritation shoots through his body. He takes a deep breath. “It’s a good thing. I’d just bore you anyway.”

“I didn’t mean that, though,” Ghirahim argues. He moves his arm, sits up, looks at Zant. “You know I didn’t mean it.”

“You still said it,” he argues right back—he’s good at arguing.

Ghirahim scoffs. “I say a lot of things, Zant. Like, remember when I teased you for your helmet? Back in the desert, during the night? Or for the tassels on your sleeves, or the fact that it looks like someone took a knife to the corners of your mouth and makes it impossible to tell what you’re feeling? Versus me, who is _far_ more expressive?”

“You remember that,” Zant says.

“...But not much else,” Ghirahim sighs. His shoulders slump, he looks defeated. “...I really don’t remember much.”

“It’s fine,” Zant says.

“...Zant.” His voice is much softer—when he looks over at Ghirahim, he’s not meeting his eyes. One of his hands twitches in his lap, his other is on the arm of the chair. “I don’t remember...”

He bites back the irritation and looks at him. “Remember what?”

Ghirahim looks up at him. “I don’t remember what Demise sounded like.”

Zant takes pause—to him, that means very little. To Ghirahim, this is likely world crushing. “Ghirahim,” he says and he takes a step forward and sits down in between one of the arms of this enormous arm chair and Ghirahim. Ghirahim’s not emoting much—a sure sign something is wrong, he thinks.

“...He didn’t say a word to me, you know,” Ghirahim says. “I saw him. But he didn’t say anything—I would have fought that pesky Skychild a thousand times more if he would have said anything. Not a greeting, or anything about the hero. Just pulled his sword out of the air and I was nothing more than a tool.” Zant wishes he knew how to comfort Ghirahim—it wasn’t even something he needed to remember. He had never _needed_ to comfort Ghirahim. “Nothing. ...And I couldn’t hear him. He didn’t say a word to me then, and then the centuries in between that and the last time I saw him previous...

“And now it’s eons later, no matter how I try, I’m never going to be able to bring him back, but I’m never going to be able to stop trying. I am still so loyal to my master—and I don’t know what his voice sounded like.” Ghirahim looked more annoyed than anything, like this was irritating, but his hand didn’t stop twitching. “...I should have killed that Skychild the first time I saw him! Why did I spare him—I’m a merciless, ruthless demon lord, I’m a sword, and I didn’t kill him, and because of that, I have no master to serve.”

Zant sighs. “It’s not your fault, Ghirahim.”

“Yes,” he argues. “It is. ...I couldn’t handle a child, Zant. He didn’t even really look like an adult, he must have been seventeen. Maybe eighteen, if I’m generous. A _child_!”

“A child almost beat me half to death with her parasol,” Zant says. “...And Lana beat me with a stick. Midna had literally told her her spellbook would be more effective, but she just wanted to fight with a stick.”

Ghirahim shakes his head. “...I don’t know what to do with myself, Zant,” Ghirahim says. “You...” He crosses his arms over his chest. “...I thought about you all the time, but I had...three weeks of memories, maybe? Over eons to forget.”

“Well...” Zant is bad at this. He grabs Ghirahim’s hand, his gloves and his own long sleeves really preventing him from feeling Ghirahim’s metallic skin, but he thought the gesture would be comforting nonetheless. “At least we’re here now, right?” He looks at Ghirahim, but he looks away. “...And I don’t mind being called ‘darling’ by you, Ghirahim. I’m glad to finally be around you again.”

Ghirahim sighs. “That’s...not what I meant,” he says. “...Forget it.”

 _Forget it_?! Forget this entire conversation?! “Ghirahim, I really don’t know what you want from me.”

“...Nothing you can really offer, my darling. Forget it.”

The door opens. If Midna didn’t step in, Zant would have just kept up this _con_ _ratna*_ with Ghirahim. “Am I interrupting?” Midna asks.

“No,” Ghirahim says—it’s not like Zant was going to say she is, but what a dick move!

Midna nods. “Okay.” She has that tone—meaning she probably feels like she is.

“How’s Lana?” He asks.

“Good,” Midna says. “Asked how you are.” She threw her hair over her shoulder. “I said you were good.”

“Lana asked about you, hm?” Ghirahim asks, resting his chin in his palm. “Should I be jealous?”

“Probably not,” Midna says when Zant rolls his eyes (Ghirahim can’t seem to make up his mind about how he feels about Zant). She closes the door behind her and glances around, before saying, her voice an octave quieter than before. “She’s definitely not into Zant.”

Ghirahim nods. “Would not have anticipated the sorceress, of all people, to be queer.” Ghirahim stretches out. “Didn’t she carry a torch for...” He trails off, like he can’t remember—which he likely can’t. “...He was blond? Dressed in...” He frowns. “...I can’t remember.”

“Link,” Midna says.

“I hate that name,” Ghirahim nods. “Oh, and also the owner of that name. Every owner of that name. They’re all bastards, all of them.”

Midna rolls her eyes—Zant wonders if she still carries a torch for the hero of Twilight, but he thinks it rude to ask. “How did you forget his name?” Zant asks. “Wasn’t the hero of skies also named Link?”

Ghirahim scoffs. “I remember his name,” he insists. “Just no one else’s. ...I will never forget his name. I really need to find his grave, just to remind myself he’s dead.”

“He’s been dead for awhile,” Midna says. “I don’t think you’re gonna find it.”

“I will find it!” Ghirahim says. “I may not have been the one to put him in the ground, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the fact he is in the ground.”

“What if he was cremated?” Midna asks.

“I will find every last ash of him and...destroy them somehow.” He waves his hand, dismissing the sheer absurdity of this. “After I track down any reincarnation of him and run him through myself.”

“Ghirahim,” Zant sighs. “You can’t murder them. One of them owns a third of the triforce, and the rest are dead.”

“Oh yeah,” Midna says. “Speaking of ‘dead,’ Lana mentioned that the reason you went to talk to her the other day was because apparently, Ghirahim might die?”

“Did we not mention that?” Ghirahim asks. He doesn’t seem to mind this grim topic of his own possible death. Totally unfazed, he buffs his ungrowing, metallic nails on his chest.

“No. You didn’t.”

“I suppose we forgot,” Zant says quietly and Midna looks at him flatly.

“‘Forgot.’” Midna shakes her head. “Forget it—it’s none of my business.” She sighs, rubs at her eyes. “I’m retiring early tonight—I was thinking we leave for the Twilight Realm early tomorrow. Assuming neither of you have objections?”

Zant shrugs—he doesn’t have any. He’s more likely to have objections to leaving the Twilight Realm for Hyrule. In Hyrule, he avoids doing much of anything that will lead to him going out, because going out means people. He has never been psyched for social interaction, and definitely never will be for _Hyrulean_ social interaction.

“Alright.” Midna kicks off her shoes—Zant’s surprised she lasted so long in them, she never wear shoes in their realm. “I’m going to sleep. _Nocte_.”

Zant sighs, leans away from Ghirahim. “I suppose I should turn in as well.”

He swears he sees his painted white lips pull themselves into a smirk. “Are you going to require anyone’s company?”

He pauses for a moment. “No, I’d think myself able to fall asleep by myself.”

“But is there anything you need me for before you get to sleep?”

 _Oh_. That makes more sense. Actually, Zant doesn’t grasp how he didn’t understand Ghirahim was hitting on him before that. Also, he doesn’t grasp how Ghirahim can fight with him and then try to imply they should have sex. “I believe I’ll pass, actually.”

Ghirahim would probably flush if he had blood in his body that could give his fake, metal skin any color. “You’ll pass?”

“I would prefer sleeping.”

Ghirahim makes an offended noise. “You would—what?”

Instead of responding, Zant starts walking to his bedroom. “Zant!”

He sighs. “Ghirahim, you’re more than welcome to join me,” and it’s true. It’s true, because despite how impossible the demon lord is, Zant’s pretty sure he’s in love with him, but he can’t tell—it is very difficult to tell if what you’re feeling is love, Zant’s certain, especially when you are in the process of feeling it.

Ghirahim scoffs, crosses his arms. “I don’t need to sleep, Zant.”

He sighs, leans back on the bed. “Ghirahim—it’s not that I don’t...” He tries to think of a way to say this. “I don’t think I’d be able to take it Ghirahim. A lot has changed—my heart might truly stop beating in my chest.” They actually have a term for that— _exitus apud a bang._ *

Something flickered across Ghirahim’s face and he collapsed beside him on the bed. “Well, I suppose if you are unable to—don’t spare my feelings, Zant, it’s truly your loss.” He sighs, throwing his arm over his eyes. “It’s a shame you mortals are so fragile—makes it difficult to have any fun with you.”

Zant shakes his head. “Goodnight, Ghirahim.”

It becomes a habit.

Zelda waits, for Impa to say something, question it, comment on how often the two of them sneak out of the castle to go into town, to hang out at a common bar with a traveler, but she doesn’t, and as time passes, it just becomes a part of the week. At least three days in a week, the two of them go out and Zelda, disguised as Sheik, spends an hour or two with Marin.

And as it goes on, ‘Sheik’ starts to feel less like a disguise.

Perhaps it was only a matter of time—Zelda finds something odd about this contrast between Sheik and Zelda. She goes from the princess, soon to be queen, who everyone knows by name and everyone seems to like, to some Sheikiah boy no one really knows anything about, other than that three days a week, they go to a bar with their red haired friend. Some know his name—most think he’s a he. A woman asked Impa if he was her son and Impa had laughed until she was wheezing and the stranger had backed off in confusion. A girl had flirted with her, clearly thinking she was a guy, and then apologized like she had realized she was a girl, and then said, “wait...are you...?” And kept apologizing.

And Zelda starts to respond to “he” and “him” and “his” weirdly quickly and it... feels weird.

They try to not think much of it—they just avoid thinking about it too much, because it never fails to give them a headache, and for awhile, they are able to postpone this conversation with themself.

And then, Marin, next to them, drinking a simple glass of water and talking happily with them, stops and looks at them. “Okay, so...I feel really embarrassed to ask you this, but, um...” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear—her face is tinted a shade of pink, because she’s embarrassed. “...Are you like, a boy or a girl?”

Their eyes widen—they don’t know what to say. Everyone thinks their a boy. From across the room, Impa’s eyes are trained on the two of them and the only coherent thought they have is that, related to another, less coherent thought, admitting their a girl might somehow make this stop, but they don’t even know what “this” is.

All they respond with is a choked out, weird sounding, “I-I don’t know!”

Marin blinks. “Oh.” Somehow though, she accepts this—like it’s a normal answer, like she doesn’t mind how little this answers and that it’s so difficult to tell what Zelda/Sheik is, but she just nods. “Okay, then!”

It further confuses them.

‘ _Okay, then_!’? She’s just gonna accept that as an answer? She’s just okay with the fact Zelda/Sheik might be a girl? Which would make this...

...What is this?”

“So, uh!” Their face feels warm, but the bar is actually pretty cool. That’s gotten pretty common. “You’ve mentioned your village—what was it like?”

“Oh.” She smiles—she has a smile brighter than the sun. “You know, it was home. Hyrule is...so much different, from what I’ve seen, but I don’t think different is a bad thing.”

“Yeah, but...what was it like?”

She smiles again. “It was near the beach. Always warm. I knew all of the people there, and... it was home.” She sighs. “It had the most beautiful sunsets, Mabe Village—the sun would dip into the horizon, and turn the waters pink, and paint the sky orange and purple—it was amazing.” She looks into her glass. “I kind of miss my father, the most, I think. We were very different, but he was a good father. His name was Tarin.”

“What about your mother?” They ask.

Marin frowns. “I don’t know. I suppose she died when I was young. I have no memories of her.”

“You suppose?” They ask.

“Yes. You know, she’s never really come up?”

“Never?”

“No, not really.” Marin takes a sip. “I’ve... been pretty content, most of my life with just my father, I never wanted to ask.”

“So...” Marin is weird—a beautiful girl, from a small village on an unheard island, speaking of sunsets that sound like they belong in picture frames, never caring about her serious case of missing mom. But there is something sticking to Zelda/Sheik, stuck on their mind. “Mabe Village sounds like suck a beautiful place—why would you ever want to leave?”

“It was beautiful,” Marin agrees. “The entire thing was perfect, my childhood, my entire life there felt like...” Something flickers in her eyes.

Sheik moves closer. “Like what?”

Marin looks back at them. “Like a dream,” she utters. “A sweet, long, perfect dream.” She tilts her head, a strand of hair falling in front of her eyes and almost covering them. “But you have to wake up eventually, right?”

Sheik nods. “I suppose so.”

“I think I’m glad I came to Hyrule,” Marin decides, like it’s something she chose, right there and then. “Especially Castle Town.”

“That’s good,” Sheik says.

Marin agrees. “It is! And I’m glad I’ve met you, Sheik.” Something about her long, batting eyelashes and dark irises made them wonder if their smile and obvious blush was concealed with their cowl. “Truly. My life in Mabe Village was like a dream—but you’re very...” There was this... tone on her lips, a glint in her eye and it makes them wonder if there issomething they were missing. “You’re very real. I appreciate it.”

Truly, it was the best, and weirdest compliment Zelda/Sheik had gotten in their life.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t received compliments. She was always told that she was the prettiest woman in Hyrule. She was a fierce leader. She was a determined young woman. She was calm under pressure. She was incredibly wise.

She was just like her mother.

They were compliments that every princess and queen before her had received and it had left her feeling, well... just like her mother. And that wasn’t a pleasant feeling because her mother was very, very dead.

Everyone told her what a good princess she was. She had been told she looked just like every princess in every story book to ever exist. She had been told she was doing her ancestors proud, that she looked like a goddess.

Marin left them feeling pretty real when they returned to the castle.

She almost goes to bed—but then she makes the weird decision to, instead of changing into something more comfortable and going to lay down and get ready for bed, she keeps her Sheikah clothes on and sneaks out of her bedroom.

She has to admit, it is alarmingly easy to sneak out of her bedroom without encountering a single guard—she might actually need to bring this up with someone. The guards are so horribly incompetent, that if anyone (such as a red eyed, Sheikah boy with half of his face covered) were to aim for the bedroom of the princess and soon to be _queen_ , so long as they didn’t announce their presence, they probably wouldn’t be caught and would get in rather easily.

She makes a note of this.

They find Link, sitting in a dimly lit room, polishing his sword. “Link?”

He turns and looks at her—definitely looking a bit shocked. “Princess Zelda?”

“You can just...” They clear their throat. “Call me Sheik when I’m like this.” Link nods. “If you don’t mind.”

“It’s late, Prince...” The ‘s’ never leaves his lips. “Sheik.” He looks up at them. “What exactly do I owe this meeting?”

They smile—somehow, Link still manages to be absolutely charming. “It’s nothing, I just...” They swallow. “Would you mind coming somewhere private with me? So we can talk? Under the assumption, you’re not occupied or anything.”

Link shook his head. “No, Sheik, I’m just...” He trails off—charming, but so horrible at _speaking._ He stands. “Lead the way.”

They can’t think of anywhere else, so they lead Link into the gardens behind the castle. Zelda used to stay out there, often, whenever she got the chance, but as she’s aged, she’s been more focused on her studies, with less down time to spend wandering around beds of soon to die flowers. Link sits down on a bench beside them. “Is something the matter?”

“I need your opinion on something,” they say. “Because it’s all I’ve had on my mind for these past few weeks.”

They don’t even have to say exactly what they’re referring to. Link interrupts, “I think the law that makes homosexuality a punishable offense is an unfair law and if you ever get the chance, you should put an end to it.”

Sheik blinks. “How did you know that was what I was going to say?”

“I didn’t, but I figured, while we’re talking, it was worth mentioning.”

“Are you...?” They trail off. Link glances at them. “You know...”

“Maybe.” Link isn’t looking at them. “Let’s face it—we were not right for each other, in that relationship.”

Sheik nods. “But, why? Everyone said we were. It made sense.”

“Up until we were in a relationship. You’ll make a lovely queen, Zelda—but I don’t think I could ever be more than friends with you.” It’s not like they didn’t feel the same way—but something about hearing it makes it so, so real. If that’s the case, what was the war for? Hadn’t the war just shown that you couldn’t fight fate? Hadn’t it shown that Zelda’s fated to be with Link the same way Lana and Cia apparently aren’t? “I hope I haven’t offended you in saying that.”

“It’s true,” they admit. “There’s nothing wrong with admitting the truth.”

“Why are you bringing up the law?” Link asks.

“...I met a girl,” they say. “Dressed up like this—a traveler, from a village on an island I’ve never heard of. I don’t know why, but...Everytime I’m around her, I think of the law, and I’ve been spending... more time than I likely should around her.”

“Do you think she’s...?” It’s like they can’t say the word—maybe because they aren’t sure of what word to say. They recall hearing Midna use the term ‘gay,’ it’s more common for ‘homosexual’ to be used, much, much more likely for it to be called ‘gross indecency’ or an illness that couldn’t possibly be spread.

“No,” they say, quickly, like someone’s life depends on it, because usually, they suppose, that’s the case. You can’t be open about things like that. “I don’t think she is.” But they recall panicking when Marin asked about their gender—what did they say? In that outfit, around Castle Town, they just didn’t...feel the same. Being a girl, a ‘she,’ a ‘her,’ just didn’t fit. Is that normal? They had taken one look into Marin’s eyes, and not only had ‘girl’ not fit, but they couldn’t get it out, because somehow, they felt that being a girl would make all this come to an end, and that felt horrible.

Link hums. “Alright then. Maybe she’s not.” He turns to her—and suddenly ‘her’ fits, but it fits tightly, like a skin-tight body suit, and Sheik can’t breathe. “Do you think you are?”

They flush—they don’t know whether to be offended or not. If this were to be anyone else, Zelda would leap up, demand to know why they would dare ask the Princess of Hyrule such a thing, demand to know why someone would think her to be so ill, but...

This is Link—compassionate, intelligent, and very, very brave, beloved by most of the kingdom, even the princess herself, even if it’s not in the way she thinks she should love him. And in his eyes, there was no judgement, no disgust, no contempt—just the truth.

They cross their arms and barely whisper, “I don’t know.”

“Then I don’t think I can help you, Sheik,” Link says, voice soft. Oh, no wonder Lana and Cia fell in love with him—they don’t understand. How do they not feel that way about him? How come, when all was said and done, including their relationship, that sweet, gentle, romantic love for Link was nothing but a close bond between herself and another person who just happened to be attractive and sought after? Nothing but a friendship? Is that how it worked? Is Zelda even allowed to _have_ friends?

They don’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Twili usually put some strong substances in their drinks, and many ingredients are only native to the Twilight Realm, leading to a very different flavor profile in most foods. Of course, the Twili have also evolved in certain ways that has lead to most of the population requiring very little food—this is due to the first few generations of the Twili and their endless struggle in finding a lot of the basic essentials, leading to them using some sort of magic that lead to requiring much less. At the time, it had many drawbacks, but was required to live—as time has progressed, the drawbacks have become fewer, and they’ve adapted.
> 
> Conratna: A Twili word for a fight, argument, or disagreement—in Twili culture, even small arguments aren’t supposed to be forgotten. When an argument arises, it’s usually supposed to be dealt with relatively quickly—this is due mainly to how quickly arguments spawned when the Twilight Realm was first inhabited because of how high tensions were. The longer arguments continued, the more difficult it was to figure out what exactly they were going to do, so the early Twili had to sort through their problems quickly. Even in modern times, trying to postpone the end of a fight can be considered extremely rude, as it essentially translates to you being unwilling to reach the inevitable agreement that’s assumed to happen after an argument.
> 
> Exitus apud a bang: Roughly translates to “out with a bang.”

**Author's Note:**

> Zant: One of the few mentions of the Twilight Realm in Hyrulean History is of the Usurper King, Zant—not a whole lot is known in Hyrule, but it’s commonly said he served as an advisor to the King of Twilight when he died, leaving the council to decide who would reign in his passing, the two choices being him or his still, very young daughter, Princess Midna. When Princess Midna was chosen over him, he flew into a mad depression that is theorized to be the result of some undiagnosed mental illness, possibly a repercussion of how there is no sunlight in the Twilight Realm, studies have pointed to many of the mental health problems any Twili facing being a result of chemical reactions sunlight could help with. After curing the reigning princess to the form of an imp, he went on to conquer most of the Light Realm before being stopped purely by chance by a ranchhand who happened to be the chosen Hero of the goddesses. After being brutally slaughtered by Princess Midna, he was then resurrected, forced to fight in the War Across The Ages, and then possibly killed and then resurrected again to aid the Demon King Ganondorf once more, though whether or not he was willing is still under debate. After the end of the war, Princess Midna returned to her time and her realm and for reasons mostly unknown to the public, thought it would be a good idea to revive Zant once more—this could be that she believed in the rumors of him doing it all to appease a god who was really Ganondorf only to be betrayed by him, or the rumors of him being possessed, or perhaps she just didn’t like his gruesome murder on his conscious. Fully revived, Zant underwent treatment for his mental and physical health. Rumors say he had to have his heart and lungs (or the Twili equivalent) replaced, though this is unconfirmed, and after a decade of proving to have a stable mental health and a desire to make things right, helped make multiple advancements to Twili technology, such as the later mentioned “linguaen” before later beginning to serve the coronated Queen Midna, possibly due more to his extremely strong powers than anything. To some, he has been redeemed, but he’s still a large course of debate in the Twilight Realm, though most agree he isn’t too threatening.
> 
> Era of Twilight: the point of time mostly known for the Twilight Invasion and the Usurper King’s reign. However, as it’s been thirty years since the Twilight Invasion, the people of Hyrule have been lead to believe that time just works differently in the Twilight Realm—the average Twili tends to live a hundred and twenty years, which is over thirty more than a Hylian, and time in general passes differently.
> 
> Ghirahim: No one is entirely sure who that could be, but there was rumors of a war lead by a demon king eons ago with a weapon that claimed so many lives it gained a life of it’s own. Or maybe it was alive before that. No one knows. He’s rumored to be a demon lord and to have served beside Zant to Ganondorf during the War Across The Ages.
> 
> Linguaen: a small device that is worn curled around the ear and allows it’s wearer/user to better understand languages that are being spoken. The magic that allows it do this is unknown but they have become commonly worn since first created by Zant. It’s unknown if this also allows the Twili to better speak Hyrulean or if they’ve learned only after understanding it with it’s use.


End file.
